


thaw.

by VoltageInside



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Cryogenics had crippling side effects!! woo, Follows the game's storyline, Humor, M/M, Minuteman General SS, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Disability, Polyamory, Sex Positive Character, Slow Burn, sex as a coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-11 22:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 49,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10475844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoltageInside/pseuds/VoltageInside
Summary: (v.): to be freed from the physical effect of frost or extreme cold.//putting a man in cryostasis doesn't freeze time, it just passes around him.  two hundred years later, the world he knew is gone in a flash and he is a man out of time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the longest thing i've ever written. It's a little jumpy feeling since it seems to follow such a short timeline in game, but when you're off doing sidequests and such it's hard to keep track of the days. 
> 
> please, just enjoy.

The first feeling out of the cryo pod wasn’t the cold, it was the overwhelming urge to vomit.

 

“C’mon… c’mon!  _ Nora! _ ” He threw himself out as soon as the pod released enough to let him out, his muscles screaming in pain, still thawing and unused. He slammed a fist to her pod, staring into the frozen, limp-stiff body. “Shit, shit, please, c’mon!” His voice was hoarse, and he frantically searched for the release. He slammed the button so hard it cracked, but the door opened painfully slowly. Of course, it did nothing; even her body stayed frozen. He screamed, pleading and begging for her to wake up. 

 

He didn’t know how long he did this, but his voice was completely gone by the time he swayed on his feet weakly, supporting himself with a sweaty palm against her pod. His eyes trailed down to her wedding ring, the gold too stubborn to freeze to her skin. He slid it off her finger, clenching it tight. 

 

The memory of the gun in her face was more vivid than anything else. But then the image of Shaun being ripped from her arms boiled along the edges of his conscience. He knew he  _ had  _ to find him. For her. 

 

“I’ll find the people who did this,” he promised her. “I’ll find Shaun. For you.”

 

Every step was a new terror. The cryo room was the easiest and the hardest. Every step was shaky from the searing pain of muscle still trying to unfreeze, his throat burning from the rawness of screaming, his brain fuzzy and trying to wake up. Shadowy hands clutching his body, dragging him back to Nora, screaming for him to come back, to give Shaun back, that he shouldn’t be walking out of here alive, shouldn’t leave her behind. He clasped his head, letting out a choked sound. Had he ever felt pain like this?

 

Cockroaches, skeletons, everywhere. Something was wrong. So, so wrong. He remembered the bombs. Being frozen. He didn’t know they’d be frozen. Watching his wife and son get… God, how long had it been? Since they were frozen? Since that happened?

 

He stumbled his way into the burning sunshine. His skin burned, his eyes hurt, a vice clamping around his head at the natural light, too bright. Brown. Everything was dead. More stumbling, a familiar route, onto one of his old hiking trails. Ruckus running in front of him, barking all the way to Codsworth. Behind him, a mushroom cloud, the heat wave flying closer every second. 

 

“Master Dick-”

 

“Codsworth!”

 

The wanderer awoke with a gasp, sweat drenching his body. 

 

“Dick? Are you okay?” He looked up to Sturges’ concerned face. Right. 

 

“I’m… yeah. Just a bad dream, Sturg.” 

 

He wished it was a lie. Hell, he wished it was a dream. It was just life’s cruel joke, replaying the same memory over and over, every night. He ran his fingers through the dirt by his sleeping bag, curling his fingers and letting it slip through the cracks. Everyone else was still asleep. Sturges watched him carefully, but he waved his friend off, standing up. He checked his Pip-Boy: three am. Sighing, he walked off, illuminating the way in a purple glow. He followed a familiar trail around Sanctuary. They hadn’t built beds yet, still trying to repair what houses they  _ could  _ salvage. That was tomorrow - er,  _ today’s  _ agenda. Everyday, they all sat around and commended their progress and praised each other's’ hard work, but all Dick saw was a laughable joke of an imitation of what once was. Picket fences burned out of their pristine white paint, dirt and rubble replacing green grass, mailboxes waiting for a letter never coming. It took maybe a week of this before he couldn’t take anymore. He set off, ready to pick up the trail to Shaun, to letting Nora… rest. 

 

\----

 

The old gas station made a hysterical giggle bubble in his throat. Ridiculous, how this stupid gas station meant nothing before, but now stood as proud as it could, covered in rust. 

 

A bark shattered his reality and his neck almost broke when he whipped his head around. After a week of helping Codsworth regain sanity, screams of raiders and a fucking  _ Deathclaw what the hell was that  _ and pleas for help and commands to repair Sanctuary, that bark was the  _ first  _ welcome sound he’d heard in this hellish wasteland. 

 

A shepherd. The first thing he noticed was its ears, huge and batlike. It papped its feet on the ground, a happy little dance for company. He dropped to his knees, arms open in welcome. Relief flooded him when the dog bounded over in excitement. If it had run, he probably would have cried. The fur was thick, but to him it was the softest in the world. He buried his face in it, stayed there for a long, long time. The dog stayed still, and he wondered if he might be hallucinating. When he pulled back, the dog looked at him expectantly. 

 

“Your ears are big like Ruckus’s.” He thumbed them, and the dog panted happily. “Are you all alone too?” It looked him patiently. Codsworth, Sturges, Preston, the whole Sanctuary crew - despite working with them, he had never felt so alone in his life. “Maybe you can stick with me?”

 

He stood, and washed in relief when the dog followed him back to Sanctuary. 

 

“Dogmeat! There you are!” Oh, shit. He wasn’t ready, no, no, no. He’d  _ just  _ found this dog, he couldn’t give him up yet. Mama Murphy wavered her way over, looking at the dog.

 

“Dogmeat?”

 

“That’s what everyone calls him.” A bitter taste filled his mouth. 

 

“Whose dog is he?”

 

“Oh, kid. Dogmeat’s his own man. ...Dog. He’s free.” She must have seen his heart break, because she smiled that doped-up Jet smile. “I’ve Seen it, kid. He’ll follow you to the very end.” The cryptic message is enough to make him happier. At least he’ll stay for a while.

 

That night, Dogmeat curled up beside him. He threaded his fingers through the fur on his scruff idly. “Sorry, buddy. I can’t call you Dogmeat. It doesn’t feel right. Not when these people actually eat dog meat.” The dog just watched him with those soulful eyes. “Thanks for sticking with me. I need you. I bet you can tell, though, huh? You’re a damned smart dog. Like me. Too smart for your own good.” Dog sighed, closing his eyes. Dick stayed up, memorizing the pattern of his fur, the shape of his face, the size of his ears. Ruckus was gone. But having a dog at his side again… he felt a little more human. 

 

Two weeks later, his house is built. He spent one night in his old house before the overwhelming guilt of surviving grew too heavy to bear. Instead he built a new house, treating rust and building an actually pristine, almost pre-war looking house. Sturges, bless him, helped him build it. Yes, he paid him some caps, but really, it still didn’t feel like money to him. He had functioning lights, a fridge. A washer and dryer, which didn’t actually work, but felt like home anyway. Two couches around a fireplace, where a TV would have been in his old life. His old bedroom was set up similarly, though now he had dressers and a trunk instead of a desk. And Shaun’s room - well, what had been Shaun’s room in the other house, which still sat untouched - was now a guest room of sorts. Preston slept there for now, though there was no rush to kick him out. Not that Preston seemed to mind. Being close to the General was good enough for him. Especially as his right-hand man. 

 

Dick fell into a bit of a routine, for a while. They built the settlement, started farming. He’d scavenge nearby areas for supplies, kill bugs and small creatures. He tried to get back to his old self, back to the sharpshooter he was, but he just couldn’t. Eventually, he gave up. This wasteland was barbaric, and if he needed to match that, killing with knives and knuckles, so be it. It wasn’t until he’d been out of the vault for a month when they started running out of supplies around the area. Sure, they had clean water and plenty of food, but repairs were on hold.  They had enough beds for their little community anyway.

 

He sat on a log. One he used to sit on when he needed a break on his old hikes with Ruckus. Dog looked up at him, panting, smiling that Dog smile. He looked up through the dead trees, to Sanctuary. Everyone was doing their own thing, farming or whatever job they had. On his Pip-Boy, Travis whimpered out an announcement. It made him smile. He liked Travis, all bumbling uncertainty. He wondered what he looked like, off the air. 

 

_ “And n-now, uh… here’s ‘The Wanderer.’ Which… I don’t, ha… really get. Like… he’s… mrrgh… anyway. Here it is.” _

 

Dick settled on the log, listening intently to the song. He liked it, he decided. Fitting. Like an anthem, for his new life. The wanderer. Maybe he could just use that name instead. It was over before he wanted it to be, and he wished he could play the tape on his Pip-Boy, or request it again from Travis, or something. Instead, it was all up to chance. He stood, stretching.

 

“It’s time, don’t you think?” He looked down to Dog, who watched him expectantly. Maybe he did understand him. “Sitting around. Farming. We’ve got a job to do.” Living easy, adjusting to post-war life was enough. He had to get out there. Nora was waiting.  _ Shaun  _ was waiting. “I’m sure you’re getting bored.” Dog barked, and he sighed. “Alright. Let’s go tell Pres-”

  
_ “So... there's a bit of, uhh, news. Well, more of a, you know, a rumor really.” _ Travis’ voice cut through his train of thought.  _ “Someone... I'm not sure who, but I guess... I mean, it probably doesn't matter who... anyway, someone saw, well... I guess they think, uhh, maybe they saw a person in a, uhh... a Vault Suit. I mean, coming out of Vault 111. It's the Vault 111 part that's weird, I guess, right?”  _ Dick’s heart stopped. He was talking about him. People actually knew about him now.  _ “I mean, it's not like no one's ever seen a Vault Suit before, I just... Well, anyway. You get the idea, I guess. Let's, uhh.. I'll just, uhh, just go back to the music. _ ” The music faded in, but Dick was unfocused. That settled it. It was time to go. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an awakening, testing boundaries, and the great green jewel.

He only had one lead. “The Great Green Jewel.” Diamond City. The big city of the Commonwealth. If he was gonna find these jerkoffs, he’d need a lead, and the hub of the area was the place to go. 

 

The road was longer than he remembered. Then again, he’d never had to walk to the stadium. He’d had a car. Now, he travelled, with no one but Dog at his side. The road was terrifying, but not unmanageable. He picked up anything he could find; food, water, Stimpacks, drugs. The last one he never used, but maybe it’d come in handy down the road. 

 

He happened upon a small settlement one day, where a soft-spoken young woman greeted him. He offered to trade with her, but eventually settled on paying her some caps for a bed to sleep on.

 

“Where is everyone else?” He asked, shrugging his backpack off his shoulders. 

 

“Oh, they’ll be home in a few days. Every once in awhile we all visit Diamond City, but someone has to stay behind and watch the house, you know?” She hefted her gun, to show him. 

 

“Ah.” He stirred the Blamco macaroni, boiling in its last minute of cooking. He took their steaks off the cast-iron pan, leaving it over the fire. They sat together at the table, and for a second it felt like a real dinner. Brahmin steaks were very different from old cow steaks, but it was better than most of his ‘on the road’ food. Nice to sit down, even if he still had to be wary of a knife in his back. The conversation was pleasant, not too heavy, just listening to her talk about settlement life. 

 

He took their empty plates and put them on the counter, ready to wipe them off, when he felt a pair of arms around his waist. 

 

His blood was cold. He started to protest, to push her off, to tell her he was married. But that wasn’t true, was it? Nora was dead. He was dead. Or at least, he felt dead. Lifeless, like he was just going through the motions. When he turned around, he barely had time before she was kissing him. God, he wanted to feel alive again. He wanted to feel heat in his blood, feel something, anything. Something to break this unending loneliness. Wasn’t it worth a shot? 

 

That’s what he told himself, anyway, as he let her drag him to bed.

 

He dressed the next morning, ready to head out.

 

“Wait!” He paused to look, and she looked at him, so sweet, but definitely not innocent. He was ready to tell her no, he had to go, but she stood and walked over to a trunk. She dragged out a sword, showing it to him. “I’ll sell you this, at a discount. I remember you saying last night you were using a knife, and you might want something sturdier. It’s one of those old revolutionary swords.” He took it from her hands, looking it over. Serrated edges, a decorated hilt. Better than a little switchblade. And she’d helped him, in a way. “I’d hate for you to die out there,” she adds. Smiling, he handed over his caps, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead in farewell. Would it be weird to hope she didn’t die of some raider attack or terrible disease? Before the war, probably. Now, well… it was all hope. 

 

The sword was comfortable on his hip, like it belonged there. He spent some of his walking time holding it, swinging it, getting used to wielding it. He had a lot of time to think, especially about last night. He hummed along to ‘Right Behind You Baby,’ thinking about every feeling, of fingers on his skin again, of heat and sweat and a shadow of his former self. It was… well, it was something. At least a ghost of feeling like a person again. A joke of a person, but still a person. Good enough for him, he figured, swinging the sword again. The crushing loneliness had subsided for a few hours, anyway. 

  
  


After a while, he tries running. It’s barely a few hundred feet before he’s nearly collapsed, panting for air. Holy shit. Come to think of it, he’d had to stop more often than he used to, sipping water or munching food or just sitting, regaining energy. He doubted there were any  _ real  _ doctors in the Commonwealth anymore, but if he ever happened on one, he’d have to ask for a more professional opinion on what happened. He figured maybe it was the whole ‘frozen lungs, frozen muscles’ thing, though he had no idea for sure.

 

\--

 

Diamond city was a culture shock. Seeing homes, shops, people  _ living  _ on the baseball diamond made his chest hurt. It was supposed to be for sport. For baseball. Taking his wife to games, his son, where he’d point out players and watch his excitement when he caught a ball from a player, take him home and smile at the excited rambling in the car that he wanted to play ball. How he’d sign him up for the local tee-ball team when he was old enough. 

 

Supposed to be, anyway…

 

His first meeting is with Piper and the Mayor. He promises her an interview, heads back to her place. He takes it  _ mostly  _ seriously, though he can’t resist telling her the vault was full of carnivorous guinea pigs. After, they get to talking, sharing a bottle of whiskey. He smooth talks his way into her room. She is ticklish, like Nora was. He feels empty this time around. He dressed, thanking her. She offered to travel with him whenever he had a juicy story, offering her journalist grin of hers. It was nice to know that she knew this wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe he’d take her up on that offer sometime. Or maybe just have another go. Right now, though, he needed a drink.

 

“Ah! Welcome to the Dugout Inn, friend. Pull up a stool!” The boom of an accent nearly blows him away. “Your dog, he is good, yes? Does not bite?”

 

Dick put a hand on Dogmeat’s head. “Yeah. He’s fine.” He seated himself at the bar, ordered a shot of vodka. He was eventually persuaded to try Bobrov’s Best Moonshine. It… wasn’t bad. At all. Went down smoother than anything else, anyway. He watched the bartender, who introduced himself as Vadim, serve his customers and come back to him. 

 

“Dick Ryder? What a name!” Vadim laughed now, boisterous and slamming a heavy hand on the bar. Dick grinned. That’s what he’s hoping for, an easy laugh, a relaxing moment in the hell. Vadim serves, comes back to chat. They make fast friends, and by the end of the night, Dick felt less lonely as he took his key from Yefim. He stood in the bathroom, staring into the mirror. He looked different. He needed a haircut - he’d go to that guy always yelling at him tomorrow. But most importantly, what he noticed most, was his eyes. They were different. Gone were the rich brown, replaced with a steely silver, ringed in black. And not like, “icy blue” type of gray, but  _ gray.  _ No pigment, no color other than silver. He reasoned for a long time, but the only answer he could rationalize was a side effect of 200 years of cryostasis. He went to bed that night wondering just what else had been affected.

 

He has to leave, and it sucks, but he has a meeting to go to. Nick Valentine, local detective.

 

A week later, Nick is safely back home, ready to help him find Shaun. He spilled his entire life story out on the table, feeling desperate and broken and lifeless. Nick promised to help him, but needed some time to poke around and get some information. 

 

Dick is more than ready for a drink and pleasant company. On his way to the bar, a voice chirps from his Pip-Boy. 

 

_ “Hey, how... Uhh, how about a bit of good news? If you, you know, haven't already seen him, which I did so I know it's true and not just something I overheard... Uhh... I mean, umm, Nick Valentine is back in town. He was gone for a while, and some people who are totally not me, thought that... Well, they thought he might be dead. Or destroyed, or whatever. Anyway. Glad you're back, Nick... Even though we never really talk. Like, ever.” _

 

Travis’ little story makes him smile. It’s good to know he’s making changes. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes, souls recognize the need for another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, this one is a bit long.
> 
> but, introducing travis!!!

Dick perches himself on the seat he took last time, the second-furthest right of the bar. Vadim greets him, comes over to chat. Dick gets maybe two drinks in him, scanning the bar, when a gangly man walks through the door. Usually, he wouldn’t really take much notice, but he looks flighty. Like he just committed a crime, and was waiting to be arrested. He’s wringing his hands, looking at the bar. There’s only one empty seat, and it’s right next to the wanderer. The man turns to leave, and winces heavily when Vadim’s voice booms out.

 

“Travis! Come here, my friend. There is a seat for you on the end, did you not see? Come, I will pour you drink.” Poor bastard looks at the seat, then at Dick, then the door. Apparently, Vadim is a bigger threat, because he wobbles his way over to the bar, sitting on the very edge of his stool, shaking hands reaching for the beer Vadim sets out for him. He looks ready to bolt, even with Vadim talking to him. The bartender wandered off to help another customer; it’s Friday night, and the bar is packed. 

 

“Hey,” Dick offered. The poor guy looks startled, jumping out of his skin.

 

“Hi. Uh… hi. I-I mean. Hey. Hi? Oh god.” He lowers his head, hands shaking even around his beer. “Stupid. You know better than trying to talk to people,” he mumbled to himself. 

 

“Hang on,” Dick said, realizing. “You’re Travis. Like, Travis Miles.” 

 

This sets off a bomb in the kid. “Oh geez. Sorry. Don’t beat me up. I’ll just… uh, I mean, I’ll- I’ll just leave. I’ll go.” He goes to move, but Dick grabs his arm sleeve, and Travis tries to yank back, so the wanderer let go. 

 

“No, Travis, please. I’m actually a fan. I love the radio.” 

 

Travis looks at him incredulously, cradling his beer to his chest, one foot planted on the floor, ready to flee. “No, no no. It’s terrible. You’re lying.”

 

“Let me buy you a drink,” Dick offered.

 

“No, it’s-”

 

“ _ Yes! Wonderful! _ ” Vadim overheard this, his voice booming as always. A heavy hand clapped his shoulder, the bartender beaming. “You pay for Travis’ drink, yes? He is quite good catch.” Poor Travis is completely red, and Dick figures he’s just trying to boost his confidence. He hands over his caps as the bartender opens another beer for the kid, putting the caps away in the register. The poor dj looks like he might cry. Dick’s voice is soft when he speaks again. 

 

“I can’t argue with that,” he agreed, referring to Vadim’s last comment. “Good night, Travis.” He feels the eyes on his back as he leaves.

 

Dick doesn’t think much about it until a few days later. He sat at the table of a family whose child they had just returned from a Raider kidnapping, information courtesy of Preston. For a one-man army, he could get information fast, and deliver it to him faster. Becoming the General had been quite the feat for him; it gave him a purpose, even if it was only a few people right now. They’d insisted he stay the night, and they served salisbury steaks and instamash. Hot food and company was nice, but it felt… wrong. They praised him and worshipped him, calling him General and vowing to the Minutemen. He didn’t  _ feel  _ like a hero. Didn’t even feel like a person, really. He had a job to do, sure - Shaun was out there. But he had no hope of finding him yet. He, himself, was still learning to handle himself out there in the wasteland. One step at a time. One day at a time, as he’d told Piper for the paper. 

 

“ _ If you, uhh, get tired of... living in Diamond City, and you maybe want an... adventure or something... I guess you have a new option. The settlement of, uhh, Sanctuary has I guess been founded to the, uhh, the northwest. Good luck to them, with... you know, the whole surviving thing. Also it sounds like maybe the, uhh... the Minutemen were involved in this. I thought... well, I thought they were kind of done for... But I guess not, so... uhh... good for them? Anyway…” _

Dick wasn’t sure what he liked more; hearing Sanctuary had finally gotten a place on the map, hearing the Minutemen had become big enough for a real announcement, or just hearing Travis talk about them - and in a way, him - again. He turned in for the night, thanking the family; tomorrow he would start his way back to Diamond City.

 

The next night found him in the Dugout Inn again. It was a comfort, really. Vadim’s cheer rubbed off on him, made him feel a little lighter. And the past few days had been rough, killing nameless faceless bodies and watching a child reunite with their family. Even if he  _ found  _ Shaun, he wouldn’t have a happy family reunion. Nora was gone. 

 

His seat was empty, but the end stool was occupied with a familiar red varsity jacket. He approached the bar to Vadim’s loud greeting. Travis looked up, realized who it was, and blushed bright red, hiding his face and refusing to look at him. Dick was taken aback, worried he may have offended him. He took his seat anyway, accepting the moonshine from Vadim. After a tense, silent minute, Travis sighs shakily. 

 

“I-I, uh… S-So…” He tries to word his thoughts, face burning. “I didn’t really think you’d, ah, sit by me. M-maybe you’d like, avoid me, cause I’m… you know, I’m- I’m not really, uh, worth remembering.”

 

The wanderer looks at him in shock, but he won’t meet his gaze. Dick brushes a gentle hand along his back, only a second before he lets it drop. “Travis, you are worth so much more,” he assured gently. Dick finishes his glass with one long gulp, pours another, nearly topping it off. He can see Travis watching him from the corner of his eye, but he has too much to drink away to worry about. He doesn’t offer much conversation after that. Maybe he picked up on the ‘drink to forget’ vibe tonight. Fine by him, he had too much of a constant flow of moonshine to stop and talk.

 

_ “That was, uh… ‘Worry Worry Worry,’ by, uh… you know. The Three Suns. All three of them, ha… ha… no? Ugh…”   _ It’s been two weeks. Dick had gone back to Sanctuary with a ton of supplies, shocked to see Travis’ announcement actually made a difference. There were more settlers, enough that they had to build a few more beds. Still, though, he kept his house off-limits. Settlers knew better than to even try entering his house. Well, his new one, anyway. His pre-war house was free reign; even he, himself, couldn’t go in there, though most left Shaun’s room alone out of respect. Preston stayed permanently in the General’s house, kept it up for him. 

 

He was sharpening the serrated points of his sword when Dog let out a weird, half-hearted bark. He looked up and spotted it. A cat, watching him from a rock a few feet away. 

 

“Hey, kitty. Hey, hey. What are you doing here?” The tuxedo blinked slowly, as if it knew more than him. He offered a hand out, though it just looked at him. “It’s not safe out here. You should come to my house,” he said, though it didn’t understand. Dogmeat was staring at it. “Don’t bother it, okay, buddy? I like cats.” Sure, not as much as dogs, but it was there, as if the war never happened. So goddamned stubborn, cats were. Like Nora. She was stubborn, too. He sheathed his sword, crouching closer to the cat. It just sat, watching. He held a hand out, and sat for a while. Finally, it yawned, stretching, and moved off the rock, coming over to rub its head against his hand. It tolerated being picked up. He wondered if it had been tame, or if it just knew. He noticed that a lot in the wasteland; animals would just watch him go by, ignore him, or even help him out when bugs or raiders bothered him. He wondered if they smelled something on him. 

 

“A cat, general? Where’d you find that?” Preston was taking a rare moment on the couch, hat hung on the rack. He put it down, putting some cram in a little food bowl he’d picked up ages ago to use as plastic. It nibbled happily, then sauntering off to sun itself on the living room carpet. 

 

“It was just… sitting nearby. Maybe it’ll lift some spirits, you know?” He shrugged. The cat cracked an eye, knowing, before closing it and falling asleep. 

 

“I guess so,” Preston said, looking at it. “Anyway, General, I’ve gotten word from a settlement that needs your help. Some Gunners have been pestering Oberland Station. Think you could give them a hand?”

 

“No problem, Preston.” Automatic at this point, but it made Garvey happy. And he couldn’t say no to him, so soft and gentle despite the pain of the Commonwealth. He was weak for him, in ways he didn’t understand quite yet. The cat pounced onto his lap, much to his shock. “Looks like you’ve got your afternoon settled,” he added, grinning. Preston petted the cat, albeit warily. 

 

“Guess so,” he said, though it didn’t sound sold, as if he wasn’t happy about it. Chuckling, he disappeared.

 

The Gunners had been harder than he remembered. His sword was bathed completely in blood by the time he stood among the casualties. Even with fire support from his settlers, he was panting and exhausted. They thanked him, adding that it was “nice to know that the Minutemen are true to their word about helping when they need it.” He put on his act, telling them the Minutemen were always there for them, marking a location on his Pip-Boy, already planning his evening breaking in a few bottles.

 

He arrived before most patrons did. There were always people at the bar, but it was still early. He rented his room, instead, thanking Yefim and ducking inside. Shower, shower, he needed to shower. He had to pay extra to use it, but being covered in gore made him terrifying, let alone  _ feeling disgusting.  _

 

The shower was not hot, but it was more than warm. Just enough to steam. It was nice against his skin, and worth every extra cap. He changed his mind about it being overpriced. Sure, he had to use Rad-X to actually use it because pure water was for drinking only, but shit, it was worth it. 

 

He exited, smoothing his hair back with his hand. He looked at his grimy clothes, plaid button down and jeans. He poured a bottle of dirty water into a bowl, dumping them in to soak. He’d wash them at a river later, but right now this would remove most of the grime and smell. He slid into some black slacks, buckling his belt, buttoning a white shirt, slid on a black vest overtop. Showering made him feel human again, and changing clothes even moreso. Many Commonwealthers just… wore their clothes until they were rags, washing them over and over, but Dick collected any clothing he could, trying to at least retain some semblance of humanity. 

 

He looked to Dog, barely conscious on the bed. “Wanna stay here and sleep, buddy?” Dog closed his eyes the rest of the way, sighing heavily. He’d take that as a yes, locking the door behind himself just in case someone tried to come in. Out in the bar area, he scans the bar. Seats are more available tonight, only five of them filled. He spots red at the end, and realizes he’s watching him. Travis even offers a meek wave, though after he clutches his hand, as if trying to take it back. But he looked hopeful, so goddamned hopeful, like a child asking for a toy or caps. Dick smiles at him, and the warmth on the DJ’s face seals him in. There’s something, somewhere, for this nervous wreck, inside him. He takes a seat beside him.

 

“Hey, Travis.”

 

“Hi- uh, ah. Hey,” he replied, and Dick smiled at him. He realizes this is the first time Travis has ever looked him in the eye, and he’s taken away by the gold. Fitting, it seemed. Silver and gold. “It’s been a while.”

 

“Yeah. I’ve been working on Sanctuary. That’s where I live.”

 

“Really? Well, I mean. Uh. I guess that- that makes sense. Since the Vault is there. And everything.” He scuffed his shoe against the bar stool. “I was just hoping, like, you, uh… hadn’t like, died. Or anything.”

 

“Worried about me?” Dick prodded, grinning at the way Travis blushed bright red. He was so easy to read. 

 

“I- I- I mean, I- haaa…”

 

“Easy, I’m just teasing. I’m glad to hang out with you again. And thanks, you know, for the stories. I know it’s just you updating the news, but it’s nice to hear about Sanctuary and the Minutemen.” Dick takes a huge gulp of moonshine, doesn’t miss the way Travis watches him drink. He pours some more into his glass, signalling to Vadim for another. Vadim beams at him, hands him a glass and giving him a fresh bottle of moonshine, taking away the  _ almost  _ empty old one. He pours the second glass, and, feeling devilish, hands the one he drank from to Travis. Sure enough, the boy blushes at it, and Dick can  _ hear  _ the gears clicking in his head, can practically read his mind about how he was going to drink from the glass Dick had just had his lips on. 

 

“The Wanderer, I think.” 

 

Travis looks at him, dumbfounded. “Uh, I. What?”

 

“That’s my favorite song. The Wanderer. It suits me.” 

 

Travis eyes him for a moment, as if putting the song to his face, his name, his growing legacy. “O-oh. Well, I, ah… I can play it more for you, like, if you want.”

 

“I’d like that, Travis. Thank you.” Dick smiles into his moonshine. Travis is still watching him, analyzing, as if waiting for the punchline, for the ulterior motive. The wanderer takes his glass, fills it halfway, hands it back. He doesn’t miss the tiny smile on Travis’s face when their hands brush.

 

A few nights later, he’s sitting at Takahashi’s noodles when the radio’s song ends. 

“ _ Undecided, by Ella Fitzgerald. I know the feeling.”  _ Dick laughs at that. Poor guy.  _ “Next is, uh. Well, it’s for a fr- for someone out there. God, I hope he’s listening. This is ‘The Wanderer,’ for, the, uh… well, for the Wanderer.” _

His chest blooms as the song comes on. Dick has a little smile on his face as he slurps up the last of his noodles, pushing the bowl towards Takahashi and getting up, walking towards the trailer. He’d seen the DCR trailer a few times, but never went in; never had to. Besides, he saw Travis at the bar, no need to invade on his home. But he wanted to give his damned liver a break, and besides, Dick figured he owed him a thanks. So he walked up the too-small stairs and knocked on the door.

 

A thud was heard inside.  _ “Why???? Oh god. Don’t answer. Wait, what if it’s important? But what if it’s someone else coming about the radio? M-maybe i’ll just ignore it? But it could be… oh, geez.” _

 

The wanderer rolled his eyes good naturedly. “Travis? It’s Dick. Let me in?”

 

There’s a silence on the other side, and finally the door creaks open a few inches.

 

“Dick? Uh, I, ah, are- are you? Like, what are… uh… you…?” He wrung his hands out, nervously trying to find the right words. “Come, uh… well, I guess, you can like, you can- here,” he finally said, stepping aside, letting him in. “Sorry, it’s uh… small.”

 

Dick moved past him. It was like a shark through water, with Travis bending out of his way. He was a big guy, all muscle and six foot and some change of height. The trailer already seemed too small for him, but it was perfect for Travis, who curled in on himself. “Hang, uh. Hang on.” Travis skirted past him, hands moving quickly to switch the tapes of the radio. Despite his total lack of confidence in himself, he was good at smoothly and seamlessly transitioning the songs, gentle on the old tapes, practiced after doing this for god knows how long. Dick looked at his workspace, his little microphone, the ashtray with a single butted cigarette. 

 

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Dick commented, watching Travis wince as he turned back to him, looking over at the ashtray. 

 

“Uh, sometimes, I guess, it just- I don’t- ah…” 

 

Dick, seeing no other choice, sat on the edge of the man’s bed. He didn’t miss the way Travis gaped for just a heartbeat, taking in the view, shaking his head, his whole body, trying to rid of some thought or another and turning back to the radio, fiddling with shaking hands. Dick could only imagine he wasn’t as bad usually, but with someone in his home, his personal space, it threw him off. 

 

“I wanted to thank you. For the shoutout. Playing my song.” He put on a genuine smile, and Travis flushed.

 

“You, ah, you heard that?”   
  


“Of course. I always listen to your station.”

 

“R-really? Wha… uh, why? I mean, I, uh, I mean. Thanks. Thanks? Thank you.” He curled in on himself again, uncertain. He seemed to think, then finally decided, loading three more tapes into the deck in a line of four. “Why are you here?” He finally asked, sitting on his chair, looking at the Vault Dweller cautiously.

 

“I just wanted to thank you for that. And, you know, for reporting on me. It helps me, helps the Minutemen. Sanctuary. Anytime you talk about me on the radio, seems like my job gets a little easier.” He puts his palms behind him on the bed, leaning back on them. Travis’ body language is so easy to read it’s almost laughable, flushing head to toe at a man lounging so readily in his bed. “You’re a good guy, Travis Miles.”

 

The DJ scrubbed his neck. “I’m not so sure, you know? I know I’m… I’m not good at this. Hell, I’m not good with  _ people.  _ I’m- I’m- I’m so anxious all the time, and I don’t wanna- I can’t like, do anything right. I’m a terrible person, you know? I can’t even make friends. People, they- they, you know, they hurt me. And send me death threats. And I just, I just wish like, I could just…”

 

Dick doesn’t want to hear the rest of that. It hits a little close to home; the idea that waking up tomorrow is the lesser option. “Travis… You have friends. You have Vadim, right?” He egged on softly, and Travis shrugged. 

 

“He kinda has to I think, you know? He’s a huge part of this station and-and I’m just the DJ, and he just doesn’t want to find a replacement, I think.”

 

“That’s not true, Travis. Vadim cares about you, and so does Yefim. And I’m your friend. Well, at least, you’re  _ my  _ friend.”

 

“I… I am?” Travis looks taken aback. He eyes the wanderer for a beat, waiting for the lie. “You… why me? I mean, who would want me? To like, talk to me? I’ve seen you talking to people, you’re, you know, good at it. You’re so charming all the time, and talking is so easy for you, and it’s like, people just  _ give  _ you stuff, and do what you say, and it’s like, I keep hearing this story or that story about the Vault Dweller, how he did this or that and it’s like the whole Commonwealth just bows to you, and I’m so… me? You shouldn’t have to-” He’s rambling again. Dick can’t deny what he’s saying, although he just figures he could chalk it up to luck. He was a lucky guy. Always had been. Hell, look at the wife he scored.

 

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be your friend. If anything, it should mean more; the whole Commonwealth, but I’m here in your trailer at night. I want you to believe me.” Dick sits up now, tries to catch his eye, show his sincerity. Apparently, it works. Or maybe it's just that silver tongue at work again, because Travis’ hand falls from his neck. 

 

“Wow… I just. Thanks. You’re my friend, too.” It sends a flush of happiness through the guy, and Dick’s heart melts. He just wanted to protect him, from all the bad. Even if he can’t help himself, he can at least help the voice on the radio. After a moment Travis shot up in an almost panicked scramble. Dick tensed to stand, but he was just unloading the tapes, the tail end of ‘He’s a Demon, He’s a Devil, He’s a Doll’ fading out. 

 

_ “This is Diamond City Radio, and I'm... uhh... you know, it's me. Travis.”  _ Travis must have felt Dick watching, and caught his eye. He flushed, making the easy smile on Dick’s face grow. “... _ Anyway.”  _ He coughed, trying to clear his head.  _ “An-and now, a word… or, several… from our… sponsors.”  _ He shuffled some papers, looking for the one he wanted. _ “Stop in for a drink at the Dugout Inn. The stories are free, but the moonshine will cost you. Ask for Vadim Bobrov!”  _ He clicked off the mic, pressing play for the pre-loaded song. Warren Smith rattled off in the background, and Travis let out an equally rattled sigh. 

 

“I like listening to you,” Dick admits to his turned back. The man cringes into himself.

 

“I’m not good,” he counters. Dick stands, taking only two steps to cross the trailer to reach him. He lays a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder. 

 

“I think you’re doing fine. No matter what, just remember, I’m always tuned in.” He stepped back, letting his hand slide off slowly. Travis gripped his bicep across his chest, not looking at him until he was already opening the door. “Good night, Travis.”

 

He barely heard the soft ‘good night’ behind him as he shut the door, but it was enough.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bonding.

A few nights later, it was late when he stumbled into the Dugout, covered in dirt and dried flecks of blood and exhaustion. He barely managed to seat himself at the bar, though he just pleaded for water and food from Vadim, who gave him a pitiful look. They talked for a few minutes, Dick tiredly recounting his recent trip, clearing Super Mutants out of a settlement for some farmers to move in. 

 

“I don’t think it’ll last, Vadim. I’ll be back there in three days, killing more mutants. Some places we should just take for a loss.” He had his head in his arms, chin on the fabric in the crook of his elbow. Vadim ruffled the hair on his head like he was a child. 

 

“Do not worry, my friend. You are doing good. General of the Minutemen, single-handedly killing Super Mutant. You know what? Your food free tonight. No charge. You are good man, General Dick Ryder. You do not forget, yes? We set you up with food. You deserve it.”

 

“Thanks Vadim,” he breathed. “You’re a good friend.”

 

“And you are. And good for business, too!” He added with a laugh. It was true, between people coming in just to see the Vault Dweller, or hear his stories when he had energy to tell them - especially of Pre-war life, or just making friends whom he’d persuade into spending more caps just to keep talking to him, business was good for the Bobrovs. “Let me go take care of him. I be back.”   
  


“D-Dick?” The timid voice comes from behind, and he lifts his head to look over his shoulder to a concerned Travis.

 

“Oh. Hey, T.”

 

“Can, uh, can I…?” He nods to the chair, and Dick agrees. He sits, and the wanderer notices the way he settles, almost leaning closer to him than to the exit. It warms his chest. “Are you okay? I- I mean, you don’t  _ look  _ okay. I mean! You, uh, you’re not like ugly, you just. You’re like, covered in blood and stuff. And I’m hoping it’s mostly not yours. Not like, not okay as in- ah, god.” Travis buried his face in his hands, and Dick smiled from his little elbow-nest.

 

“I’m gonna be okay. I need a shower and sleep and food. That’s all. It’s just another day for me, DJ.”

 

Travis’ eyes widen. “Just another? Ohhhh god, I don’t think I could- that’s- that’s crazy.” He goes silent for a minute, and Dick can see the internal war in his mind. 

 

“What are you thinking?” He asked outright. Travis sighed heavily, shaking his head. 

 

“Nothing, I just… I wanted to, to like, talk more, you know? Hang out again. It was… nice. I’ve never… People never… Uh, they normally don’t…”

 

Dick is tired. He is covered in grime. He is  _ starving.  _ If someone told him a settlement was being eaten alive by Deathclaws, he might just tell them to shove it. If someone told him Travis Miles had stubbed his toe, he’d be on his feet in a heartbeat, ready to go. “I’d really, really like that, T. Whenever you’d like.”

 

“Tomorrow?’ His answer, his voice, were so hopeful, and so immediate, that he clamped a hand over his mouth. Dick even chuckled. 

 

“I’ll be there.”

 

“Great, uh, great. I gotta get… uh, go back.”

 

Dick watched him go, and it didn’t go unnoticed that he didn’t even order something. 

 

He’s sitting in the chair with John cradling the side of his head in one hand, the hum of clippers in his ear, when he sees him. 

 

“Travis!” He calls out, and the kid nearly jumps out of his skin. He sees Dick and, to his relief, even relaxes. He comes over, though looking like a wary dog at John and Kathy, standing a foot or so off from them where Dogmeat is lying. 

 

“Travis? Been awhile since we’ve seen you out in daylight,” Kathy quips unkindly. Dick gives her a look so sharp she actually looks away in shame. 

 

“It’s nice to see you, Travis,” John offers. The DJ stammers out a thanks, his usual discomfort coming through. It's almost a shocking reminder that everyone isn’t actually friends like they are. The lanky man kneels to pet the shepherd, who’s dozing happily in the sun. 

 

“Where you off to?” Dick asked.

 

“Just, uh… you know. Ah… getting some food.” He rubs his neck again.

 

“If you wait a minute, I’ll go with you,” he offers.

 

“You’re too nice, Dick,” Kathy says, rolling her eyes. “Where’s the asshole that told off Ann Codman on his first day?” 

 

Dick smiled at the memory.  _ ‘And miss out on your sparkling personality?’  _ He’d asked, when she told him to piss off. “Don’t you worry, Miss Kathy, I’ve always got plenty of asshole to deliver,” he said with a wink to John, who laughed. 

 

“C’mon, man, I’m holdin’ clippers! Don’t make me laugh.” Dick grins, closing his eyes to enjoy the chop, John cutting clean stripes into his hair. He didn’t like when they got shaggy. 

 

Finally he stood, Dog springing to his feet and nearly knocking Travis over. Dick offered him a hand, hoisting to his feet so fast he almost launched him into the Upper Stands. Right, the guy was maybe 120 pounds soaking wet, and he could knock heads off with a baseball bat. Had to be gentle. They walked and talked, sitting at the robot’s stand to enjoy fresh noodles. 

 

He was slurping his broth when Travis pushed his bowl away. “Are you, uh… busy? I mean, I’m, you know, doing the radio stuff, but I-I figured, if you were bored, you could like, hang out or something. Unless that’ll be boring, or if you have stuff. I mean, I’m sure you have more stuff to do. Better stuff. But if you-”

 

“Travis,” Dick interrupted, raising a brow at him. “Yeah. I could use one calm day.” 

 

So he found himself lying on Travis’ bed, listening to him stumble through news reports, arms folded behind his head, one leg propped up. He was almost too big for the bed, but not quite. Yes, he was nervous and stuttered, but it was… nice. Organic. Radio men had always been so cookie-cutter and confident. To hear this guy just trying his best, feelings totally bared, just putting his real self out there… Dick wasn’t sure. He liked it. 

  
They talk idly, enjoying each other's company for hours. It isn’t until late when Dick finally, finally, reluctantly leaves. He gives Travis one last look before he shuts the door, doesn’t miss the way he’s doing the same. ‘Good night’ never leaves his lips as he shuts the door behind himself.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> retaking the castle, and setting the foundation of courage.

The next day, he’s on the radio with Preston, who asks him to return to Sanctuary. Says he needs his help back home. He leaves the Diamond, giving the small tin trailer a long look as he passes. 

 

A week and a half, it takes, to retake the Castle for the Minutemen. It’s getting serious. They’re real. Actually real. He’s established settlements, taken on more, but that just felt like helping people. Now, to take back the Castle, to be called General, to be looked to when the Mirelurk Queen exploded from the water, to work with Ronnie Shaw, to don the hat… it was real.

 

The Queen had been unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He’d screamed for his company to run, far. At first they protested, but he pulled out the Fat Man he’d found, loading his Mini Nuke. After seeing what a real nuke could do, the thought of this weapon repulsed him, but the rumors of the ‘beast’ that had killed the minutemen  _ and  _ destroyed the castle… better safe than sorry. When they cleared out, Preston literally carrying Dog away, he finally shot the nuke to her face. His fingers trembled when he reloaded the next nuke. He shouldn’t  _ have  _ to, he thought, it was a fucking  _ nuclear bomb.  _ To the  _ face.  _ And yet she just roared at him, blindly screaming in rage, blood pouring from various areas, burns all over. It took two more nukes to finally knock her to the ground.

 

He sat panting, searing pain in his ribs where she’d slammed a claw into his side. Some were broken, for sure. But Preston and Dog ran up to help him, carrying him down to the group of hollering minutemen, cheering that they’d won, they had their headquarters back. He delegated as they rebuilt Radio Freedom. It was real.

 

He was still weak when Ronnie Shaw showed up, bones still unhealed. But they ventured down under the Castle anyway, took down Sarge. He took the General’s outfit, taking his body up so they could bury him. Later, in the General’s office (where he now kept a bed as well,) he slid into the uniform. It was almost perfectly his size, give or take an inch or two around the chest. A little tight, but he was a fucking broad guy. Maybe he’d adjust it. Or just let it be. 

 

“Look at you.” Preston’s voice was soft in his ears and he shivered, wanting more. He turned around slowly, still sharp pains from aggravating the fractures after fighting Sarge so soon after the Queen, to face his right-hand man, who was leaning in the doorway. “Gotta say, General. You’ve surprised me. I know it was… well, almost impossible of a position when I asked you to take that title. I didn’t have any right to ask that of you. I guess I was just… desperate. If I’m honest, I’m still not sure why you said yes. Whether it was for me, or the entire Commonwealth, or whatever reason. Looking back to then… and looking now, at you, in this outfit, in the Castle… I can hardly believe it. I just wanted to say, I appreciate it. All of it. What you’ve done for us… for me.” 

 

Dick walks over, albeit a little stiffly from the pain. Seeing this, Preston met him halfway, and the wanderer clapped him on the shoulder. “Preston, for you, I’ll do anything.” He doesn’t miss the way he ducks under his hat, the way he does when he’s embarrassed or nervous. “I couldn’t have done this, any of this, without my right hand man.”

 

“We make a good team, General. That may be true, but it was still you, in the end. And I wanted to thank you.”

 

“We’re gonna be okay, Preston. The Minutemen are back. And we will protect the people of the Commonwealth. But first, I think we’ve earned some dinner, huh?” Preston laughs at that. 

 

“Guess we have,” he agreed, helping his General to the cooking station. By the fire, under the night sky, surrounded by a group of rowdy, jovial minutemen, he sits a little closer to Preston than necessary. Neither of them shift away.

 

The next night, they’re sitting around the cooking station again when a voice chirps from Dick’s Pip-Boy. With the radios turned to Radio Freedom, he kept his on DCR to keep up with news and to prevent hearing the same thing all the time. He still heard Radio Freedom, but at least he could tune in. 

 

_ “So, the, uhh... The Minutemen are out there... doing things... in the Commonwealth. What kind of things, you ask? Well... I will... I will tell you. I have heard that they, uhh... they have taken over "The Castle" which I guess was theirs a long time ago, but hasn't been for a while... It had been full of fish, or monsters... or monster fish, maybe? I don't know; I didn't really... hear... that part. But the Minutemen are there now, and that's good... for them... and I guess for everyone else, too. And turns out, their leader, er, General, or… yeah, uh. It’s none other than the… the Vault Dweller! Crazy, right? So, uhh... yeah. How about... How about some music?” _

 

The minutemen whoop in pride at this little announcement. They were on the board. Making a comeback. Making a  _ difference.  _ So Dick’s smile looked as natural as the rest. But he already started making his plans to return to the city.

 

The next day, he left the Castle in the hands of Preston. They understood he was a man with a mission, with work to do. He couldn’t spend all of his time at the Castle. Preston, of course, also had work to do, but at least for now he could trust him to take care of things until he, too, had to wander off, but he’d appoint someone fitting in the end. Probably Ronnie. He didn’t care. He had a trip to make. 

 

He made it to Diamond City that early evening, beelining for the Dugout Inn. Thank god the castle was so close to the city. He greeting Vadim, who raised a ruckus about the Castle and the Minutemen returning and offered a free round of drinks to any who would toast them. The uproarious cheer and clink of glasses sent a wash of pride over him. He was really, truly making a difference. Sure, free booze, but they really did care. Cheers of, ‘To the minutemen!’ and, more warmly, ‘To the General!’ would be his comfort for weeks. It was a good night to be at the Dugout. And yet… Someone was missing. 

 

“General,” came the meek voice on cue. He smiled into his drink, knocking it back and turning in his stool to Travis, hands shoved in his pockets.

 

“Travis,” he greeted, gesturing to sit. The man sat, shaking his head to decline Vadim’s offer of alcohol. The man pouted and fussed, but quickly wandered off to actual paying customers. Dick poured a shot into his glass, sliding it to Travis. He was surprised the man took it, but declined any more. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah, just…” He trailed off, thinking. 

 

“Why don’t we go back to your house? Too noisy here.” Travis looked relieved at this, and Dick followed him out, walking by his side in the quiet streets. Everyone was in one of the town’s two bars. The walk to the trailer was quiet, but Travis let out a sigh when he shut the door behind them. Dick sat on his bed, but the DJ didn’t sit in his chair, standing. Curious, the wanderer beckoned for him to come closer, and was surprised when the DJ sat beside him on the bed.

 

“What’s on your mind?”

 

“I’m… well, worried, you know? You’re… a big deal. You’re out there, you-you’re a general.  _ The  _ general. Of the Minutemen. They Brotherhood and the Institute, they, uh… they’re not gonna be, you know, happy to have competition.” 

 

“Don’t worry, T. We can take them, if we need to. Right now, we’re just focused on helping the people.”

 

“Good, I mean, that’s good of you, like, you’re a good person. But, ah, I don’t… you’re… I don’t want you to uh… die. You’re the closest friend I have. Only, really, I think. Besides Vadim and Yefim, though. Which I still don’t get, you know? I mean, you… you left all those people, and they-they were… were  _ cheering  _ for you, and you came here wit-with me! B-but, ah, I don’t want to… like, lose you. I like… this.” He is completely red, and Dick is completely charmed. 

 

“Travis,” he started gently, ducking his head to catch his eyes. The hope he finds makes the gold shine, a beautiful imitation of the precious metals they mimicked. “There’s a hundred people there trying to talk to me as the General. And buy me drinks, and kill my liver. But with you… you talk to me as me. As Dick, not the General. You’re incredible. You try so hard, every day, even when you’re scared, you still get on that radio and do your best. You are so open, and honest, and it’s nice to have someone who’s just…  _ real  _ with me. No hiding, no bullshit. Spending time with you… I feel like I can let my guard down. I feel like I can just breathe again. I think I’d pick you over a crowded bar anytime.”

 

Travis gapes at him, for a long time, so long he almost starts to get nervous or uncomfortable. But Dick can see him searching, processing, waiting for the joke. There is none, and he tries to show that. So Dick is, for the first time in a long time, caught off-guard when Travis lunges forward and kisses him before he can even register it’s happening. Before he gets a chance to respond, the DJ is pulling away, redder than before, panting in fear. 

 

“Sorry, sorry, shit, sorry, I- I didn’t mean- I shouldn’t- shit, I’m-” Dick cuts him off, pulls him back and kisses him. He nearly swoons at the way Travis melts into him, completely at his mercy, leaning into the arm Dick wraps around his lower back, cradling him. 

 

It’s nothing like kissing Nora. Not that he expected it to be. It felt freeing. Like it was everything they needed. And he felt  _ something  _ again, felt his heart bursting out of his chest, felt his muscles tense with excitement. There was uncertainty, like Travis  _ still  _ wasn’t convinced this was okay. It was cautious, but it was sweet, and easy, and longing but not risque. A need to escape loneliness, and Dick wasn’t sure which one it was coming from. Though, if he was honest, he’d come to the conclusion it was both. 

 

At first Travis sat beside him on the bed, the two kissing at an angle, but as time dragged on, the crick in his neck was too much to continue, and Dick wasn’t ready to break off. He wrapped his other arm around his waist and tugged him until he got the message, sliding into his lap, arms around his neck. He seemed to tense up, nervous, like he was expecting more he wasn’t ready for. So Dick just kept him there, kissing him, until he felt the tension leaving his muscles, felt the lanky man settle fully onto his lap. He rubbed his back gently, soothing, never asking for more, never pushing for more or trying to do more than just.. Kiss him. He just… couldn’t pull away. And, really, he didn’t want to. It was a long, long time before they broke off for longer than a breath of air, maybe two or three hours, before Travis licked his kiss-swollen lips, sitting up to look down at the wanderer.

 

“I, uh…” Dick expected the apology, the scramble to get off and forget this happened. “I wanted to… to thank you, you know?” Or that. That works too. Travis, always surprising him. “I just wanna… to say I’m- I’m grateful for you. You make me feel… better. Like- like I’m not… you know, scum of the earth.”

 

“You’re a wonderful person, Travis,” Dick murmurs, pressing his lips to his throat, feeling the shudder slither down the man’s back.

 

“I- I don’t think- I don’t, uh… think I’ll ever, you know, believe that. B-but, you know, if  _ you  _ like me, I can’t be  _ all  _ bad, right?” Travis was reasoning with himself, but Dick could see the demons in his head, the ones that took over the dark of the night and tried to drag him into the pit of depression even further. To see him fighting filled him with pride. 

 

“Not at all,” he agreed, and this time, Travis ducks his head again, takes them back to kissing, satisfied that he’s got his thoughts out. It’s almost three in the morning when they are too exhausted to think straight. He considers leaving, but Travis meekly offers he stay. 

“I know you have to leave in the morning, and I just… I mean, it’s already late… and you shouldn’t have to, you know, pay.” He feels a tender spot in his heart as he agrees, sliding into bed beside the DJ, who seemed to wrestle with himself before finally just scooting closer and burying his face in the Vault Dweller’s chest. Dick wraps an arm around him, holding him closer, letting his sigh drain the tension from his body. It’s a start, just a small one, but it’s at least a chance of starting to regain that purpose, that feeling of being human again. 

 

The good times never last. Especially not in this new world, where goodness had died when the bombs fell. Waking up meant going back on the road with one last promise to Travis he’d be back soon, and to remember he was always tuned in. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enter maccready.

The mercenary is sitting on the couch of the Third Rail one night when a stranger blows in like a gust of wind in a rad storm. He’s all muscular bulk, like a miniature super mutant. He’s dressed sharp, in slacks and a vest, like a businessman. MacCready could bet that his business was one with that weird sword on his hip, and business was booming. 

 

He lit a cigarette, taking a long, long pull as he watched this strange man coax information out of Charlie. To see Charlie talk longer than a minute about anything more than alcohol piqued his interest. They both looked to Magnolia, who sashayed off the stage and took a seat at the bar. He approached with all the suave smoothness of the devil himself. He strained to listen to their conversation. 

 

“...Let me guess,” she purred in that sultry voice of hers. “I think I can recognize a fellow performer when I see one. You know just what to say at just the right time, don’tcha? Silver tongue, hm?”

 

“I’ve heard I’m pretty skilled with it,” came the reply, and even Magnolia couldn’t suppress a shiver. MacCready looked away. She must’ve had him pegged. He minds his own business for a while, until the stage feels too empty for too long. He checked in on them to find the man leaning close to her, a handsome smile on his face. Damn, he had that snake venom that could charm a Brotherhood lackey out of his own Power Armor. He watched her take his arm, lead him outside. He tried not to gawk. He’d never,  _ never  _ seen Magnolia abandon post for  _ anyone.  _ Let alone some stranger blowing in with the dust. They were stuck listening to DCR for a few hours. Hours passed, and Mac has a good, warm buzz flowing steadily through his veins as he stumbles his way to the Hotel. He caught the glimmer of red as Magnolia breezed through the door, leading the man by the hand as he paid the bellhop caps for a room and let her drag him upstairs. He let out a low whistle, shaking his head as he unlocked his door and entered, flopping onto the bed to sleep. 

 

The next morning, he woke as usual, trudging to the Rail to get some breakfast. At the bar already sat Magnolia. He grinned devilishly.

 

“Well, well, Mags. Never thought I’d see the day,” he teased, taking a seat beside her as she turned her face to him. 

 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said, but the blush on her cheeks and the afterglow rolling off of her in waves gave her away completely. At his cocked brow, she sighs happily. “Oh, Mac… he’s somethin’ special, that one. He’s… different.” Maccready asks her if she wants more. He follows her longing gaze to the stage and back to her when she sighed. “No, my life belongs to the stage… and he has his own journey. He’s been busy since he crawled out of that Vault.” 

 

Oh,  _ shit.  _ That was him? The Vault Dweller? The Sole Survivor of 111? Travis Miles’ famous ‘Wanderer’? Holy f-, holy  _ heck.  _ No wonder. He definitely had the air of a man out of time, reckless, nothing to lose. Totally in command of the room when he walked in. Hell, he’d charmed Magnolia to bed. He’d rebuilt the Minutemen from  _ extinction.  _ Of  _ course  _ that guy was the Wanderer.

  
“Tell you what, though,” Mag said coyly, bringing his attention back to her. “I wouldn’t mind if that happened again.” He laughs, shaking his head as he brings his glass to his lips.

 

* * *

 

Dick is still chatting with Ham when two figures breeze by. Ham shouts his warnings to them, but they barely wave him off. The ghoul looks angry he was ignored, but if they caused a stir, he’d take care of them. The wanderer shakes his head. 

  
“Don’t worry, Ham. You’ve got it all under control.”

 

“Holler if you need me,” the ghoul rasped, and Dick felt him watching as he descended into the bar. Magnolia was already in full swing, and when he caught her eye she gave him a quick wink, which made him grin. 

 

“Another one of you drifter types lookin’ for MacCready, huh?” Dick looks down to the woman on the chair, eyeballing him. “He’s in the back.” She was stoned. Not completely gone, but she was far from sober. Why would she otherwise tell him this, completely unsolicited, when he hadn’t even  _ looked  _ at her?

  
MacCready. Hmm… If they went out of their way to call him by name, there must be a reason. Worth checking out, anyway. He eases his way down the hallway, where voices are already engaged in a heated conversation. He catches the tail end of it.

 

“We play the game. Something  _ you  _ never learned.”

 

“Glad to have disappointed you.” He stands in the doorframe, leaning, watches the shorter guy take off his hat, bowing deeply in mockery. Dick recognizes the men as the guys at the door. He holds his hip dagger, ready for action. 

“Yeah, yeah. Keep playing, tough guy. But if we catch you working in Gunner territory, all bets are off. Got it?”

 

“You finished?” The short guy asks, sounding frustrated. The two men - apparently Gunners - storm off, the dark skinned one glaring as he passed, but breaking the eye contact at the steely look he got in return. Pick your battles.

 

“Causing a fuss back here,” Dick said, pushing off the doorframe and walking into the room. MacCready eyed him from his chair. 

 

“Look, if you’re here to preach about Atom or if you’re looking for a friend, you got the wrong guy.” He’s all talk, but Dick doesn’t miss the way he scratches his fingers when Dogmeat pushes his muzzle into the merc’s hand. Dog’s approval is enough for him. “You want a hired gun, maybe we can talk.”

 

“Maybe, huh? Price for that, too?” Dick asked, smirking. 

 

“I don’t say no to a free drink,” he replied smoothly. “So what do you need me for anyway? You look like you can handle yourself out there.”

 

“Haven’t met a man I couldn’t lay out,” the wanderer admits, the double meaning not lost on MacCready, with the way he raises a brow.

 

“I can believe it. So how do I know I won’t end up with a bullet in my back? Or… maybe more accurately,” he backtracked, eyes glancing down to his hip, where Dick brushed his fingers on the hilt of the sword, “a knife?” 

 

Dick grins, and it’s a little predatory. “You don’t. Isn’t that part of the risk?” He purrs. MacCready shrugs.

 

“Can’t argue with that. Tell you what. 250 caps, upfront. No bargaining. Deal?” Ah, but he doesn’t account for one thing: Dick doesn’t back down from a challenge. 

 

“ _ Everything’s  _ negotiable,” he replied. “You must be getting bored sitting around here taking bullshit jobs. 200?” It’s not like he doesn’t have the caps to spare. Quite the opposite; he seemed to  _ hoard  _ caps, buying only his food, his drinks, and any Stimpacks he came across. It wasn’t like it was hard to find shit to sell in the Commonwealth, especially when every enemy he felled had armor and guns and bullets and what have you. It was the challenge that got him. And it worked.

 

“Alright, hotshot. You drive a hard bargain, but you just bought yourself a gun.” He rose, hoisting his pack to his shoulder. “Lead the way, boss.”

 

A few nights later, they’re setting up camp for the night. MacCready is on edge; it’s their first night really out in the wastes. He kept checking over his shoulder to see what Dick was doing. The wanderer understood; he still didn’t trust him, and they’d never slept together, let alone out in such a vulnerable position that they actually had to depend on each other. The mercenary starts dinner, which is just heating salisbury steaks over the campfire, but Dick moves off a bit until the light of the campfire no longer reaches him. Only the stars illuminate his face, but they’re so bright.

 

The war killed everything. He spends his days trying to find a reason to keep going, or a reason to find some sort of happiness in the day. A victory, in all the loss. His favorite is the sky. The night sky, anyway. Without  _ any  _ pollution, the entire galaxy was visible. The Milky Way was so proud to shine, the stars so bright he wasn’t sure he could ever sleep again. Sometimes he counted stars, or searched for old constellations, or new ones. 

 

“So…” MacCready’s voice is like a harpoon, piercing his body, dragging him from the deep void of space, floating comfortably through nothingness, dragging him out into the open air and face reality again. Damnit. “Dick Ryder, huh?” 

 

He can hear the amusement in his mercenary’s voice. “Yeah. Would you believe I’m named after my mother?” A smile toys his lips as MacCready laughs. It’s a real, genuine laugh, caught off guard and every time he tried to regain his composure he fell apart again. 

 

Finally, he coughed. “Aw, shi- shoot. I haven’t laughed that hard in months. Food’s ready.” Reluctantly, the wanderer rose to his hands and knees, crawling his way over to the campfire, plopping back down and taking his food with a soft ‘thanks.’ “Come on, though. Are you really that lucky?” 

 

“I  _ am  _ a lucky guy. But… nah.” He blows to cool off his bite of steak, thinking. “I mean, Ryder is my last name. But Dick was kind of a joke, back in the Air Force. After the war, though…” Crawling out of that vault, his old life had died in the cryo pod. “It didn’t feel right, you know? It’s a new world out here.” 

 

“So what  _ is  _ your name?”

 

“Ah, ah,” he scolded with a wink. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

 

“Tragic,” MacCready mumbled into his food. Dick isn’t sure if it’s a joke or not. He’s faced that dilemma, himself, ever since he walked out of the vault, alone. “What’s our plan, boss?”

 

Dick sliced off a sliver of meat for the dog. Sure, he’d given him canned food, which he’d been picking up cans of anytime he found them for him to save precious resources, but a treat wouldn’t hurt. Dog took it snapped it up, made him think of how gentle Ruckus was - that dog couldn’t even tear a sandwich in half. It made him smile. He could feel MacCready staring, but he didn’t look up, giving him a moment to analyze. “We’re meeting up with Nick Valentine. We’ll have to go to Diamond City, but unfortunately it won’t be much of a social visit.” No time to see Travis or the Bobrovs, this time. He hoped to just stay undercover, so they wouldn’t tell them he was there.

 

"Pity," MacCready deadpans, lying back and tugging the brim of his hat down. He rolls over to sleep, and Dick watches him for a while, before rolling over to face Dog and drift off, uneasy.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the hunt for shaun begins.

They made it to Diamond City a day later. Valentine was waiting at the agency, and when they entered, he looked up from under the brim of his hat. Dogmeat bounded over to greet his old friend, who scratched his head with his metal hand. 

 

“Ah, damnit, Nicky. I forgot to pick up that motor oil for you.” Dick glanced back at MacCready, surprised. 

 

“Cute. Real cute, MacCready. So this is the sort you’re running with, now?” Nick asked, eyeing the mercenary behind him. 

 

“Can you blame him?” MacCready is faster than him, and Dick hopes he won’t have to diffuse the situation. Seemed like they knew each other, and maybe not from a great situation. Not that Dick is shocked; mercenaries and lawmen don’t exactly mix and match well. 

 

“Nick, please,” Dick finally breathes, and the two seem to sense the stress in his voice. Nick looks a little shameful and adjusts his hat. 

 

“Right. Well, turns out Kellogg was living here, in the city, with some kid. But it wasn’t a baby. He was around ten.”

 

Dick doesn’t need to hear more to know it  _ has  _ to be his son. After all, how long had he been frozen after… after Kellogg came? “It-it’s him! It’s Shaun! It has to be, right? Somehow...right?” 

 

“Now, now. Don’t get excited. We don’t know for sure. You  _ did  _ say you were looking for a baby. Let’s you and I take a walk to his last known address and see what we can find.” Nick rises, and Dick follows, leading to the West End of the stands. The house is small, totally dark, like it’s been untouched for ages. “Damnit, that’s one tough lock. We’ll need a key.” 

 

“I’m on it,” Dick said. “Wait here,” he instructed, to Nick and MacCready alike. He ignored the shared look between them; they’d figure it out and work together or he’d  _ make  _ them. He took off towards the mayor’s office, Dog on his heels.

 

“Ah, the Commonwealth’s upcoming star. General, was it?” The mayor is gaudy, and Dick’s suspicion meter is ticking off the charts. Dog picked up on this, and was stiff as a board at his side, ears flattened, but otherwise offering no teeth or growl. “Don’t be shy, I’m the  _ mayor.  _ What can I do for you?”

 

He wants to tell him to cut the crap. But it wouldn’t help his case. “Well, I’m sure the mayor has a key to every house in the city, doesn’t he?”

 

The mayor laughed. “Of course not! Where would we keep them all? Besides, every citizen has a right to their privacy. That’s the final word on that.” 

 

“Please, Mayor McDonough,” the dweller pleaded. “This man, Kellogg… he… he kidnapped my son. I need to find him. I need to find my son. I know I can get some answers if I can just get that key.”

 

McDonough’s brows rose. “O-of course! I… I will do  _ everything  _ in my power as the mayor to help you with this horrible tragedy. I remember a Mister Kellogg… paranoid. Between you and me, I didn’t like him, myself. Paranoid. Kept to himself. I… doubt you’ll find him. But still, I insist you take this key. His house is abandoned, but it’s in the West end. I do hope your efforts are not fruitless,  _ General. _ ”

 

Idiot. Dick took the copy of the key, praising his grace and kindness as mayor, and ducking out of the office before he threw up. He didn’t like this guy, but he had a job to do.

 

He came back, luckily, to his two intact companions. He held up the key, unlocking the door. “I won’t ask how you got it,” Nick said with a frown. MacCready stood outside, and Dick wondered whose choice that was. Not important.

 

It took twenty minutes to find a hidden switch under the desk, and another fifteen to come to the decision to track him using his cigars. From there, it was hours of a wild goose chase, stop by stop of cigars, littered with raiders, mirelurks, and mutant bugs. A deathclaw was seen crawling out of a cave, but the group ducked to the floor, crawling past silently until it wandered off. Dick was grateful that, besides announcing combat or declaring they were safe, everyone was silent. His mind was churning, hundreds of miles per hour, every thought racing through his mind as if to make up for 210 years of cryo. His son was out there. With this Kellogg guy. He’d been seen, alive, with his kidnapper. Ten years old. Still a boy. 

 

They stopped outside of Fort Hagen, looking up at the building. “Well, trail stops here,” Nick mused, looking at a satisfied Dogmeat. Dick pulled out some bloatfly meat; it seemed gross to him, but to the dog, it was just a meaty treat, snapping it up when the wanderer tossed it his way. “Come what may, I guess.”

 

Dick had never seen so many synths before. If he’d doubted it before, he didn’t now. Especially when a familiar voice spoke over the intercom. Taunting him, teasing him, fueling every enraged swing of his sword. MacCready’s shots were true, never missing their targets, sometimes dropping a synth just as he aimed to strike it. He’d be impressed if he wasn’t blinded by every negative emotion in the universe. 

 

It’s the final hallway where he finally falls silent. No berating comments or taunting remarks. Silence. MacCready and Nick shoot out the turrets. Still there is silence. Dick lets out a shaky breath. 

 

“You gonna be okay?” Nick asked, and he couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t say anything. He opened the door, and finally Kellogg’s voice came over the intercom. It was quiet, calm. No more joking around.

 

“Okay. You made it. I’m just up ahead. My synths are standing down. So… let’s talk.” 

 

He froze, hands shaking so hard he nearly dropped his sword. His breath was ragged, like it couldn’t remember how to fill his lungs right. 

 

“No way, boss,” MacCready said behind him, softly. Was he going deaf? Maybe that was all the silence. The quiet. “This has ambush written all over it.” Dick turned to look at him, and whatever the man saw on his face made him look down to his gun. “I’ve got your back, no matter what. Safety’s off.” 

 

Nick, too, was eerily silent as they made their way down the unending corridor like a death march to the guillotine. A security door at the end opened, and he stepped through, sword in hand. 

 

“And there he is.” Lights, one by one, clicked on. A figure emerged from the shadow with its hands in the air. Synths, too, crawled out, as if curiously checking out the newcomers. “The most resilient man in the Commonwealth. And here I thought that  _ I  _ was the one that held that title.” Bile rose in his throat. “You came a long way. So, let’s hear it.” That was it? That’s all, after  _ years,  _ after  _ shooting his wife, stealing his son. _

 

“Enough!” He spat, teeth bared. “Where is he? Where is Shaun?!” 

 

His bullshit excuse about stages was unheard. His brain only held on to ‘good kid, older.’ Enraged, he pointed his blade to the man’s chest. “God _ damnit,  _ you mercenary mother _ fucker.  _ Where. Is. My.  _ Son?!” _

 

“Oooh. What’s that cliche, again? ‘So close, yet so far away?’” His devilish smile made his blood run cold. His fingers tightened on the hilt. “That’s Shaun. Don’t you worry. You’ll die knowing your son is happy and safe, living with his loving family. The Institute.” 

 

Dick was an intelligent man. He, generally, wasn’t patient, but at least rational. There was more information to retrieve. How to get to the Institute. How to get Shaun. But he was blind, blinded by fury, by thirst for revenge. The roar in his chest sounded inhuman, like it didn’t even belong to him, as he swung his blade. He’d been aiming to decapitate him, to see his head roll along the floor, but the man hunched, and he felt the blade slice into the bone of his shoulder, effectively severing nerves and rendering it useless. Kellogg’s scream was satisfying, but not enough; he swung again, and again, at anything he could reach. Bullets peppered his body, but he felt so far away, like he was watching it all go down. He could barely hear the gunshots of MacCready and Nick, the synths reporting damage and hostiles alike, Dogmeat snarling and growling and biting, like water rushing his ears. He dropped to one knee to slice through Kellogg’s knee, and standing when he went down with a cry of pain to plunge the blade into the soft juncture of his shoulder and his neck. 

 

He unleashed himself onto any nearby synths until finally, panting, the group stood in the center of the room. They were bloody, but the auto-inject stimpacks had done their job. Dick vaguely remembered the feeling of a laser burning through his leg, crippling him, but immediately healing itself. The wanderer moved to Kellogg’s body, searching. He ripped the chip out of his head, wanting nothing but to bash the rest of it in. Instead, he wrapped it in some scrap cloth, poking over at the terminal until he could open the file. He read it, again and again, unable to comprehend, until he just downloaded the terminal’s data to his Pip-Boy and looked to Nick.

 

“It’s…” He feels the eyes on him, but Dick feels completely hopeless. “It’s over. I’ve lost him.” 

 

“Hey, now. I know this feels like a shot in the heart, but this case isn’t closed, long as I’m on it. Let’s go talk to Piper,” the detective suggested softly. He nodded, too numb to do anything else. 

 

Outside, a huge aircraft was driving by, surrounded by vertibirds swarming like bees to a nest. A voice over an intercom continually called out that they were peaceful, announcing they were the Brotherhood of Steel. Red alarms started ringing warning bells in his head, sirens blaring. No. No, he didn’t trust them. There was something bad about this, something he didn’t like. He’d be going to the Castle as soon as… he looked  to the chip. Well, as soon as he could. 

 

Back in Diamond City, they met at Publick Occurrences. “Beat it, Nat,” he growled lowly. 

 

“Watch it, Blue,” Piper warned, but the look on his face made her reconsider. “Bad day, huh? Go on, Nat. I’ll get you later.” She pouted and left. “What happened, B? Nick? And… MacCready? What the hell-”

 

Nick gave her a short rundown of the story so far. “Turns out, Kellogg  _ did  _ have our friend’s son. Problem is, he turned him over to the Institute.”

 

Even hearing it aloud made it all still feel so unreal. Dick can still feel the tremors worsening in his hands. He wonders if it’ll ever go away. 

 

“Oh, hell, Blue. I’m… I’m so sorry. That makes things way harder than we thought. No one knows how to get in. Even  _ Nick  _ doesn’t know how to get in.”

 

“No synth does,” Nick told her. “Security protocol.” 

 

“I- I can’t. I need a way in.”

 

“Oh, I’ve been investigating these creeps for over a year now.” She rambled on about some nonsense of the Institute being the evil in the night, but Dick couldn’t bring himself to care. 

 

“No one knows exactly where the institute is. Or how to get in,” Nick supplied, frowning. 

 

“Exactly. But there’s one guy that must know. The one who just gave them Shaun.”

 

“Kellogg? Huh.” 

 

“Let’s talk to him. Who feels like holding a seance?” MacCready’s snort from behind him reminded him that he was still there. Even absently like this, he could deliver. He couldn’t let this destroy him. He had to keep going. 

 

Slowly but surely, they reached only one conclusion: The Memory Den. Dick had no idea what it was, but after showing them his cybernetic chip, they’d figured it was their only chance. 

  
“I’ll meet you at the Den,” Nick said, tipping his hat to the two of them, breezing past. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> quiet comfort begins to settle; the memory den.

Outside of Diamond City, the sun was already starting to set. For once, MacCready was silent, not bringing up his discomfort with travelling at night. Thank god. He didn’t think he could stop, not now. Nick went ahead of them; they’d stopped to grab some more food for the road. Unlike the synth, they couldn’t just keep going. 

 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a gentle nudge on his bicep. He looked to MacCready, holding out an unwrapped cloth full of squirrel bits. 

 

“You need to eat.” Dick looked down at the bits, but the idea of food made his stomach churn.

 

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbled. MacCready glared.

 

“C’mon, boss. You haven’t eaten all day, and you’ve been through a lotta shi- stuff. And, from the sounds of it, you’re about to go through a whole lot more.” 

 

“I thought you weren’t a friend?” He asked, quoting their first meeting. MacCready flushed, looking away. 

 

“Yeah, well. You look like you got something bigger than a gun for caps on your mind.” Dick considered it for a while. He’d never told MacCready a word. What he’d gone through, what he was doing,  _ why.  _ He just followed. Sure, he was getting paid, but any more sane person would’ve split and taken the loss ages ago. Either he really  _ was  _ desperate for the caps, or he was crazy.  His sigh was heavy, all the tension in his shoulders starting to hurt. 

 

“Listen, Mac… we’re starting to get into some seriously deep water. I don’t think it’s gonna get any easier from here on out. I think it’s gonna get really fucking crazy, really fast. So… I guess you at least deserve to know what you’re in for.” He took a deep breath, trying to steel his nerves. “You already know the vault was a cryo pod facility. I was only thawed out recently. My wife was shot, and my son was taken by that Kellogg guy. I don’t know why. I’m trying to find Shaun. I don’t know how old he is, I don’t know what he looks like. He was taken as a baby, but the way Kellogg talked… shit. I don’t know. I don’t know.” Dick was never uncertain. He did everything with a plan, or at least pretending like he had one, because if he faked it, he’d make it. But being out here in the open, looking into the caribbean blue of MacCready’s eyes, into the concern on his face, the two of them illuminated only by the unbelievable starlight, it made him feel small, like he had nothing left. And, if he was honest, wasn’t that the truth? 

 

MacCready looked almost uncomfortable, like he wasn’t  _ quite  _ sure what to do. He guided the vault dweller to take the bundle of food into his own hands, and once he was sure he wouldn’t drop it, put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m… sorry. I had no idea.” He dropped his hand, adjusting his gun strap in defense. “You’re gonna find him, okay? It’s gonna be alright.”

 

Dick shook his head, looking down at the squirrel bits, still totally repulsed. “MacCready, it’s gonna be hard. And I’m not even sure it’ll be worth it. But if you ever want out… I won’t hold it against you.” 

 

MacCready seemed to think about this one. “You know, boss, I don’t think I’m ready to go back to slugging around Goodneighbor. Besides, a sword? Really? You’re gonna need a gun at your back. And I’m the best in the business.” He flashed his cocky smile, and Dick was convinced, just for a second, that everything would turn out okay. He took a squirrel bit into his mouth, and they pressed on into the night.

 

It was, if Dick was honest, nice to be back in Goodneighbor. He liked the mayor more than he’d ever like to admit, and even with the off putting smell, the sense of community was nice for a change. People trusted him more here than in Diamond City. But today he had a mission. 

 

He met Nick outside of the Memory Den. “You ready, kid?” He asked. No. He’d never be ready. They walked in, where Nick played up the charm on Ms. Irma. She directed them downstairs, where Dr. Amari was waiting. 

 

After she explained the risks, Dick looked to the detective. “This is a hell of a risk to take, Nick.”

 

“Ah, don’t worry about me. I’m past my warranty date, anyway,” he said with a wry smile. 

 

“I appreciate this,” the vault dweller breathed. To meet someone willing to stick their neck out like this in the Commonwealth… well, he was pretty sure the detective was the first one.

  
“You can thank me when we’ve found your son. Now, come on. Let’s do this.”

 

He looked to MacCready as he laid his head back, sharing one last look before he plunged into the memory of Kellogg.

 

At first, it was bearable. The man babbling on about his family. His wife and daughter. The fact that he  _ had  _ a daughter enraged him. He knew the pain of losing a child and  _ still  _ put him through it. His fists clenched. The bar, the institute. He paid special attention to those; to people he saw, to surroundings, for a clue to getting in. 

 

Then came the Vault.

 

He recognized it the second he stepped into the entrance. Recognized the hazmat suit of the scientist that wrenched his baby from his wife’s frozen hands. Kellogg’s gun. He felt himself trembling, worse than the usual tremors that prevented him from using his gun. His entire body felt unstable as he took a wobbly step after Kellogg, then another, trying to keep up but feeling so far away. 

 

“Oh god. Oh no, no. Not again. I’ll try to find another memory quickly, just… just try to endure it. Oh, no, no no no…” Amari’s voice barely reached his ears as he watched himself slam his fists over and over on the window of the cryo pod, trying to throw himself against the glass, calling out to her, to them, grunting with effort as he fruitlessly tried to stop the inevitable. With a shaky breath, he turned around as Kellogg neared the words that would be her last rites. He tried to tear his gaze away, but was trapped in a memory, trapped in the same hopelessness as he watched, again, a gun raised to his wife’s head and, again, watched her die, again watched her son ripped from her hands, again watched their child stolen away. He looked back to his own self, watched the anguished horror as he tried to fight the freeze that eventually won out. 

 

“...I’m sorry. There’s… when you’re ready, there’s another memory. One more…” He felt as frozen as the man in the cryo pod, but finally he felt his feet moving, backing away from the scene, finally to the last memory. 

 

A little boy on the ground. Shaun. His son. He barely even registered Kellogg. That was his son. His boy. Grown up. Ten years old. Dick felt a lump rise in his throat. His hair was jet black, like his father’s. His eyes were green, like his mother’s. Still had his nose, his mother’s jawline. He was lanky, ten-year-old lanky still growing into his body. A shaking hand reached out to touch, but phased right through him. He drew his hand back like he was burned. 

 

Shaun was sitting amongst a pile of magazines. Dick tilted his head to read them. Tesla. And Surgical. The wanderer could’ve cried; he was smart, too. Nora always had joked the baby was too smart for his own good, just like his father before him. He wished she could see how right she was. 

 

Virgil. That was the name. “That is all we can access, but it looks like we’ve got what we need. Interact with the television when you are ready to go.” And boy, was he ready to go. He turned on the television before she even finished her sentence, staring at the magazines where Shaun had been sitting only minutes before. 

 

He had to lay in the Memory Lounger for a solid minute before he could muster the energy and courage to stand. He found himself, for the hundredth time, wondering why they couldn’t have just shot him instead. Or, better yet, as well. He tried to sit up, but he felt a wave of nausea hit and his elbows buckled. He didn’t drop all the way back, but it was enough that MacCready took notice. 

 

“Easy, boss.” The mercenary was at his side in a heartbeat, gripping his elbow and helping him stand. The gentle but firm touch grounded him, and he shakily rose to his feet, locking eyes with him. Blue, so blue, like the water of their honeymoon. And full of concern. The idea of comfort was so appealing he almost just fell into him, but this was just a hired gun, and letting people see he was weak wasn’t on Dick’s to-do list. On his feet, he let out a ragged breath, closing his eyes. 

 

“Slow, slow. Slow movements, okay? I don’t know what kind of side effects the procedure might have had. No one has ever done this before. How do you feel?”

 

MacCready let go of him once he was on his feet, but when he leaned on his opposite foot to set a few inches of polite distance between them, he swayed to follow unconsciously, leaning more in his direction. “Hgh… For the notes, doc, I don’t know which one I want to shoot myself with more: a stimpack, or a gun.” Out of his peripheral, he saw MacCready subtly nudge his gun away from the drifter. Maybe for the better. “Nauseous, mostly.”

 

Amari typed that on her terminal. “I am sorry you had to go through that again. Are you… ready to talk about what happened in there?” 

 

Dick screwed his eyes shut. “We got what we needed.” No need to relive all of that bastard’s memories again. “The Institute uses teleportation to get in and out.”

 

“Yes! Their biggest secret, finally revealed. Now how does it work? What is next?” 

 

Dick thought back, tried to wade through the last two memories. Damnit, the most important had been the hardest to focus on. Seeing his son alive and well and  _ grown up  _ had made the last one fuzzy. “...Virgil. We need to find the scientist Kellogg was after.”

 

“Right, a rogue Institute scientist… He will answer all kinds of questions. But they said he was in the Glowing Sea. No one goes there, not even the most desperate.”

 

Ah, but the wanderer was a man of challenges. “If Virgil is in there, I’m going in after him.”

 

Amari frowned. “It is the Glowing Sea for a reason. If you must go, you better be prepared. The radiation will kill  you if you aren’t ready.”

 

“I will find a way.” Nora would be proud of him. She always told everyone she loved his steely determination, and how he’d stop at nothing when he set his mind to something.

 

“Good luck. And, please… be safe.” 

 

He thanked Amari and headed for the door, MacCready close to his heels. Nick was waiting, sitting by Irma, the two exchanging pleasant, if flirty, conversation. Seeing him, the detective rose, his eyes flashing. An uncomfortably familiar voice cut through, threatening his very sanity.

 

“Kellogg?” Dick gaped.

 

“What? What’re you talking about, kid?” Nick blinked, staring at him. 

 

“You… you sounded like Kellogg, just now. You fucking with me?”

 

“Did I?” Nick seemed to think. “Guess that's for you to wonder and for me and Kellogg's memories to know for sure.” A wry smile. “Let’s get going. Er,” he glanced to MacCready. “I’ll head back to Diamond City. You know where to find me if you need me.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finding comfort in companionship.

Outside, Dick watched the detective until he was out of sight. It was early afternoon; they’d gotten to the Memory Den before dawn and had been there the majority of the day. The sun was bright and warm, as if trying to make up for living through a personal hell all over again. MacCready took a step to line up next to him, looking at him. 

“Boss… you okay?” Dick wanted to lie and say he was okay. Never let them see you sweat. If anyone else in the world had asked, he’d shrug them off, grip his sword, and set off. But one look into that goddamned blue and he felt his head shaking for him. “Let’s go eat, okay?” 

 

Dick shook his head. “I’m not hungry. I’ll just meet you at the room.”

 

MacCready shook his head. “Sorry, boss. I hate to say it, but I don’t want to leave you alone right now. And you need to eat. Then we can get a room at the Rexford and take the night off. Virgil isn’t going anywhere.” MacCready, damnit all, is right. Shaun, Kellogg said, was safe. They weren’t doing anything bad to him. He wouldn’t be a big help if he ran himself into the ground. But the idea of food repulsed him, and after eating just a few bites of squirrel bits last night, he was worried he’d never eat again at this rate. He let MacCready lead to the Third Rail.

 

“Hey, hey, gentlemen. Welcome back. Whoa, Dick, you ain’t lookin’ so hot.” Ham was leaning against the wall, looking him over. 

 

“He just needs a drink, Ham,” MacCready greeted for him. Alcohol would be the tipping point for vomiting, Dick figured, but he didn’t argue, just followed his mercenary to a more private corner table. He ordered vegetable soup for the both of them. Dick was grateful; had he ordered anything else, the smell alone may have made him vomit. When it came out piping hot, he sipped the broth slowly, trying to appease the merc. He got about half of the bowl down before he pushed it away, crossing his arms on the table and placing his chin on them, sighing. MacCready had polished his off long ago and was just watching Magnolia. He glanced back over. “You done?”

 

Dick nodded, and the merc tugged the bowl closer, lifting it to his lips to take a few gulps of softened vegetables and broth. There was something so painfully intimate about the motion, something that made Dick watch his every move from his little perch on his arms, the bob in his throat, the tiniest amount of broth that dripped down the corner of his mouth. He knew it was just MacCready not wanting to be wasteful, and yet…

 

When he finished his bowl too, he gestured to the door, and when Dick nodded, they stood and headed out for the Rexford. Paying the bellhop, they beelined up the stairs to their room. MacCready grabbed a cot from the hallway closet so he wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor. Dick stripped out of his suit, feeling generally overdressed for how crappy he was feeling. He stayed in his boxers and pulled on a cleaner T shirt, Nuka Cola printed loudly on the front. He would’ve felt human again if it wasn’t for the day’s events. He crawled into the bed, tugging the blankets up to his chin, lying on his side, facing MacCready. Dog leapt up immediately, placing himself between the wall and his master, falling asleep almost instantly. The mercenary sat on the floor, cross-legged, pulling his gun off his back and digging through his bag to find a rag and a small kit for cleaning. For a short while, they sat in silence, Dick watching his fingers methodically take apart every piece of his gun with perfect precision, cleaning them obsessively. It was mechanical, it was soothing.  

 

The sun has set already when he finds his voice, though it’s raspy and quiet from hours of lack of use. “Did you get to see them? Watch them?” He means Kellogg’s memories. MacCready catches on, because he glances up at the bundle in bed. 

 

“...Yeah. I did. I’m sorry.” 

 

Dick is getting tired of hearing those words. He doesn’t know how to respond.  _ It’s okay? Me too? Don’t be?  _ There is no response to that. He ignores it, turning his gaze back to MacCready’s gun, completely taken apart, all small pieces laid out perfectly. When no response came, the mercenary spoke again, softly. 

 

“Did I ever tell you I’m completely self-taught?” He looked back at all the little parts of his rifle. “Picked up a sniper when I was ten years old. I’ve always thought it was smarter to hit my targets at long range. I mean, why take the chance?” Dick understood, really. He was always an up-close-and-personal guy. “Besides, I had to come up with every trick in the book to survive the Capital Wasteland.” That would be helpful if Dick had any idea what the Capital Wasteland was. He could figure it was just another part of the country. 

 

“What were you doing there?” 

 

MacCready seemed relieved that Dick was participating in the conversation. “I was born there. Place called Little Lamplight with a bunch of other kids. I left when I was sixteen. We kinda had a policy. No adults.” He must see something in Dick’s face he doesn’t like because he smiles grimly. “Yeah. I know it sounds crazy. But we just couldn’t trust having adults around.”

 

Dick curled a fist into the blanket, tugging it higher around his chin. “How’d a bunch of kids survive alone?”

 

“Everyone pulled their own weight. Like any other colony, I guess. Everyone’s got a designated job, watched each other’s backs. Can you believe,” he added with a grin, “that I was mayor for a while? Me? Mayor. Crazy, I know.”

 

Dick felt a tiny smile play on his lips. “Aw, Mayor MacCready. I think it’s cute.” 

 

MacCready flushed slightly. “Ah, shut the f- shut it.” Then, a smile. “I haven’t heard that name in a  _ long  _ time.”

 

“Pretty brave. Bunch of kids alone.”

 

“I dunno. Looking back, pretty sure we were just lucky. Anyways, when I was sixteen, I wandered the Wasteland for a while, taking odd jobs. It was pretty hot, though, with the Brotherhood running the show. So I hitched a ride north, ended up here. Started making a name for myself until I heard the Gunners needed sharpshooters.” His face seemed to fall. “Biggest mistake of my life.” He looked bitter. “Fu- Freakin’ animals. Killing everything that moved. I had to do it, for the caps. But… I dunno. It got to me. So I quit. And… you know the rest. So, here we are.” Apparently, storytime was over. They looked at each other for a long beat, until he finally looked down to his gun, starting the reassembly process. At first, Dick watched his hands, methodically putting the intricate equipment together, so practiced, working with finesse. But eventually he found himself watching his face, concentrated, almost lost, like he’d just completely turned off everything else. Dick wished he could remember what that felt like. How to do it, to turn his brain off, and just be in the quiet of his mind. Or, he hoped; maybe he was lost in thought, in the bad that trailed after him from the Wasteland. 

 

“MacCready,” he whispered into the night, completely taken by the blue that looked back up to him, ready to serve. “I’m glad you’re here. With me.” For today as support, helping him through reliving his own hell, or every day watching his back, either answer worked.  

 

“I… well, I-” He coughed, trying to clear his throat, his thoughts. He sighed. “...Look. I know I tend to be a pain in the ass- er, I mean, I know I tend to be  _ arrogant  _ and come off like… like I wanna be alone.” He looked sheepish, but Dick was totally transfixed. It was almost  _ rewarding  _ for him to open up like this. It hadn’t been incredibly difficult, but they’d been traveling together long enough that he felt an explanation was overdue from both sides. “ _ Nothing  _ could be further from the truth. Being alone scares the heck outta me.” His voice fell in volume the longer he spoke. “Now that we’ve been traveling together for a while, I’m beginning to realize how much I missed having someone I could depend on.” Even in the dark, he can see MacCready actually blushing. “I just… I just wanted you to know that I’m going to do  _ everything  _ I can to see that it stays this way.” There’s defiance in his eyes when he looks up, trying to sell the point that he was serious. Finally, he looked back down to his rifle, fully put back together now, sparkling clean and ready for action. “...Anyway, I hope you got something out of all that.” Then, almost inaudibly, under his breath: “I know I did.”

 

MacCready shuffled, shrugging out of his duster, shedding layers of supplies and bullets until he was comfortable enough to sleep, settling into his cot. He took a few minutes to settle, but eventually rested on his side, facing the wanderer, who had been watching him carefully. They sized each other up for a while, maybe memorizing, or maybe seeing one another in a new light, or maybe even just processing the entire day. Dick knew he certainly had a lot to process. 

 

“Try to get some sleep, Ryder.” There’s so much gentleness in his voice that Dick doesn’t recognize it’s MacCready’s, at first. He’d thought he would’ve been up all night, but at the soft encouragement, he felt the exhaustion crash against him like a train, and let his eyes slip closed with a ragged, pained sigh.

\--

“God, I could really go for a cigarette right now.” 

 

Dick glanced up, briefly, from the boxes he was rummaging through. The house was so blasted apart, its walls and roof were open to the elements. Someone had set up a little nest for picking off the ferals that inhabited the area, but had finally succumbed to the Wealth. They’d left a nice little bundle; some ammo, a weak sniper, food, water, chems. He placed most of these in their respective pouches, offered the ammo to the mercenary, though he left the rifle; not worth enough caps to lug around. He grabbed a pack from the right pocket, tossing it to the mercenary. Caught off-guard, he almost dropped it.

 

“Oh! Uh, thanks. Didn’t know you smoked. Haven’t seen it yet, anyway.” He fiddled with the box, and Dick shook his head. 

 

“I don’t. I’ve been selling them, but I’d rather just give ‘em to you and save you the caps.” He grabbed the pack of snack cakes he’d left out, ripping open the box and tugging one out. He sat on the mattress, pushing the eaten skeleton off. Amazing, really, how low his standards of comfort had gotten out here, how comfortable with the uncomfortable. MacCready leaned against a more sturdy wall post, closing his eyes when he took the first drag. Dick tried not to stare, tearing his gaze away to watch Dog dig in the streets and taking another bite of cake.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cait.

“Oh,  _ man.  _ I used to come here all the time. Can’t even begin to tell you how this dive used to suck caps outta my pockets.” 

 

Dick looks back at him, all questions in the steely gray of his eyes. MacCready nods to the signs for the Combat Zone. He knew they were getting close, but apparently the boss had never been in the neighborhood. Without a word, he lead the way into the building.

 

While he hadn’t expected a welcome party, he also hadn’t expected the violent turn as soon as they stepped in the door. The jeers from the guys locked in the shame corner had not stopped Dick from hacking the terminal with disgusting ease. Sometimes he wondered just how he got so damned smart. Or maybe he was just lucky. Or both. Definitely both; his boss seemed to have a way with words, books, and lady luck. Too bad that cryochamber had fucked him up. He saw the way his hands shook, the frustration when his muscles wouldn’t cooperate, the way he strained to breathe after a run or a fight. And for the love of god, couldn’t pick out an enemy until he was right on top of them. It worked, he supposed, for a guy who used hand-to-hand weapons.

 

“MacCready!” The shout warns him back to life as a raider jumps at him. He ducks out just in time to avoid getting butted in the head with a shotgun. There’s a blade in his gut before the raider can even regain his footing. Safety off, he turned on heel to start picking off anyone in his sights. Dog and Dick made quite the team; the mutt would grab a sleeve or leg or shoulder and, while they tried to escape, would get a blade to the neck or through their abdomen. He spotted the raider up high long before they could even pull their gun out. They had knelt down to line up a shot, but he was quicker on the draw, sending a bullet right through the temple, watching them crumple. 

 

They seemed to keep coming, but between the three of them, it wasn’t long before they stood amongst a mass of carnage. Poor Dick was panting,  _ covered  _ in blood, gripping his sword tight. 

 

“You think they’re done out there?” Tommy was whispering to the redhead. Cait. He remembered her; great fighter, and a temper to match it. “We don’t want any trouble!” He shouted now, hands up as he rose to his feet in the ring. “Not-not anymore, at least.” 

 

The two stepped into the ring, though not too close to the pair already there. Dick kept his sword in hand, ready to go, so MacCready left his safety off, watching.

 

“Is it over? God, well, that could’ve gone worse.” Tommy was sweating.

 

“Heh! I dunno, seemed like quite the performance from where I was standin’.” MacCready looked to Cait, but she had her eyes completely on the boss, who let one hand drop to Dogmeat’s head, waiting. She apparently liked what she saw. 

 

“Are you fuckin’ high?” Tommy scoffed. “Why am I even asking. Of course you are.”

  
“Still won the fight, though, didn’t I?” Cait snapped, turning to the ghoul.

 

“You’re strung out and sloppy. Not that it matters anymore, this guy just put us outta business. Not sure if I should kiss you, or have my little bird feed you your entrails.”

 

Dick, as always, was quick on the draw with a cocky grin. “It’s a once in a lifetime chance, pucker up, gorgeous.”

 

Tommy laughed, but Cait was steaming. “I told you not to call me that.” He ignored her.

 

“So what is this place?” Dick asked, cocking his head. MacCready took a step closer, though didn’t lower his gun, not until the boss did. 

 

Tommy rambled on a bit about the history, how raiders had come in and taken over, until Dick  _ graciously  _ wiped out their entire clientele. He asked the survivor’s thoughts on Cait, but he was noncommittal, not wanting to sell himself on something he didn’t know he was buying. 

 

“So, I was thinking, I pass her contract to you, she goes with you, watches your back. You’d be doing me a hell of a favor.” 

 

Dick looked to Cait, considering. MacCready wanted to shout. He was  _ right here.  _ He was watching his back just fine. What’d she have that made him look less qualified?

 

“I’ve got someone watching my back. Two someones.” Relief flooded him, but the stress went to Tommy. Dick held up a hand, stopping him. “But I’ve got a place for her.” 

 

“Don’t I get a say in this?” She barked. 

 

“What, you wanna stay here? Nothing to do but talk to me.” She shuddered, declining it immediately. “Then it’s settled. And here. The purse from the last fight. Exterminator’s fee. Finder’s fee. Consider us friends. I don’t care.” He addressed Cait, and essentially kicked her out, goodnaturedly. Outside of the Combat Zone, they agreed on Goodneighbor, to stock up, to rest. 

 

MacCready scuffed a boot on the ground at the entrance of the town. Watched him give her 15 caps for a room at the Rexford. Once she was inside, Dick turned to him, sliding the coin purse into his hand. Shocked, he looked to his boss. 

 

“I don’t need it. Treat yourself at the Rail or something. Consider it a bonus,” he said, rolling his neck. 

 

“I always wanted a sugar daddy,” he teased, and Dick laughed. 

 

“I’m gonna go clean this  _ gross  _ off of me.” He knelt down to the dog. “Hey, buddy. Watch MacCready for me, okay? Don’t let him get into trouble.” The mercenary tried to protest, but stopped himself, losing his will to the hypnotism of the colorless gaze. He’d just be drinking the night away anyway. Drinking away the image of the man in the shower.

  
  


Dick groaned, holding a hand to his head. Too much vodka last night. 

 

“Morning, handsome.” Oh, right. Cait. He glanced over to her, looking up at him from her side of the bed. He recalled the night’s events; how he’d gotten out of the shower, had  _ intended  _ to meet his friend at the bar, or maybe the good old mayor, but was cut off when Cait knocked, entering his room with a bottle of alcohol. Hadn’t turned her away when she moved into his space, flirting her way through a third of the bottle. They’d talked history, good times, bad times, found comfort in a chance at friendship, but she had pushed her way into his bed and he had let her.

 

Overall, he just felt… empty. Already the plans to keep moving, to find their next course of action, were buzzing through his head. “Hey, Cait.” He swung his legs over the bed to get dressed. “Gotta find MacCready.”

 

“What? You’ve got a naked woman in your bed, and you’re thinkin’ about him?” Cait glared at him, and he wasn’t  _ quite  _ sure it was good natured. Seemed to be, but Cait was a little hard to read, even for him. 

“He’s got my dog.” He grinned when she groaned, burying her face in her pillow. “Meet us at the Rail when you’re up, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer, bolting for the door. 

 

Settled at a table already was MacCready, Dog at his feet. He kicked out a chair, giving Dick enough space to sit, which he did, calling to Charlie for a breakfast as he petted his dog.

 

“So?” MacCready’s urge made him roll his eyes. “I know that look. How was she?” 

 

He shrugged, barely letting Charlie put down the plate before he was spearing a pile of instamash. “Don’t worry, baby, I was thinking of you the whole time.” A kick to his shins and they both laughed. “Meant nothing, really. I wouldn’t do it again, I think.”

 

“Think she’ll let me?” MacCready asked, around a mouthful of brahmin steak. 

 

“You can try. I think you’d look great in a black eye.” 

 

“Come on, we can’t all be the debonair, mysterious stranger, someone’s gotta take one for the team.” They snickered, as Cait walked up. “Well, good morning, beautiful! What a sight for sore eyes.” 

 

“Oh, shut it, MacCready,” she said, rolling her eyes, but a tiny smile played on her lips. Dick winked at him, just so she wouldn’t see, and MacCready snickered. “What’s the plan, then?”

 

“Plan?” Dick swallowed his bite of steak, thinking. “You’ll be going to Sanctuary. Sturges will help you settle in. I’ll let Preston know you’re coming.”

 

“Sanctuary? And do what?” 

 

Dick shrugged. “Live there? Whatever they need, really.”

 

“I want to come with you,” she pressed. He shook his head. 

 

“No. We can’t have so many people, we’ll draw attention to ourselves. And MacCready and I… we’ve got a system already. It’d be dangerous for me to relearn a new strategy.” Not to mention, he didn’t need her fawning when he had the Minutemen to rebuild, his son to find, the Institute to investigate. And with her Psycho habit, he wasn’t willing to take any of that on. She whined for a while, but he shrugged it off. Outside of Goodneighbor, he pulled his two-way radio out of his pack. 

 

“Preston? Hey, Preston, you there?”

 

_ “I’m here, General. What’s up?” _

 

“I’m sending you a helping hand with some supplies.” Cait protested, but he gave her a hard look. “You want a house and a job, or you wanna live out here in the wastes?” He snapped coldly. He didn’t have time for this. She quieted, and he clicked the radio again. “Her name is Cait, redhead, about… five-five, freckles. Give her a room in the cul de sac and have Sturges give her a job.”

 

_ “Can do, General. Will you be home soon?”  _ It’s a little hopeful, and Dick won’t admit to the sting in his chest. He’d admit, though, that he missed his right-hand man. 

 

“I’ll try, Preston. I’ve passed a place or two that I think will be perfect for the Minutemen to set up shop.”

 

He can hear the smile on the radio.  _ “Thanks, General. Good luck. Stay safe.” _

 

“You too.” He makes a note to come home soon, to spend some time with the soldier. Traveling like this was good, he was making progress on all fronts, but he missed his friends. Missed Preston.  _ Really  _ missed Preston. 

 

Huh.

 

He loaded Cait’s pack with the most important supplies he’d picked up. “I’ll be waiting for Preston’s word that you got there. Make sure all of this goes right to Sturges. Got it?” She nodded, looking over her shoulder one last time as she set off towards Sanctuary. 

 

He heard MacCready’s sigh of relief, and turned to look at him. 

 

“Sorry, boss. I just… was a little worried that it’d be me walking to Sanctuary right now.” 

 

He clapped him on the shoulder, setting a marker on his Pip Boy’s map.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys have a moment to talk.

MacCready is asleep. Has been asleep for an hour or so. The campfire is low, but still alive. It’s still a little chilly out at night, and letting it die is still not an option. Dick considered putting a new log on, but decided instead to let it go a little longer. The lack of light makes the stars easier to see. He crawled away from the fire, not far, but enough that the light wouldn’t obstruct his vision at all. Dogmeat lifted his head to watch, but when his master stayed nearby, let out a sigh and fell back to sleep.

 

Dick laid down, interlacing his fingers across his chest and staring up into the vast galaxy above. When all else failed, somehow, the vast vision of space grounded him, gave him an escape to sit and think and process. He went through the previous week’s events; finding Kellogg, killing him, finding clues about Shaun, joining minds with Nick to enter his memories, finding Cait. 

 

He clicked on his Pip-Boy radio, turning its volume to a setting just above silent. He could barely hear it, but it was there; Travis, announcing the station’s name. It was nice to hear a familiar voice. He closed his eyes, listening to the boy report on the events of the world; the Institute’s attempts to infiltrate the city, the Minutemen’s retaking of the Castle and how Radio Freedom was thriving (and how he hoped people still listened to DCR now that it was live,) and how Nick was back to solving cases. He wished he could tell Travis he was listening. That he was doing great. He had improved, if only a tiny bit, since they started talking, hanging out, sometimes even having sex. Every little thing they did together had made him just a little more confident. Dick was happy to provide. He was softness, innocence, uncertainty, all things that should be dead in the Commonwealth and yet survived in his little trailer. He clicked it off when the music came on, plunging the world into silence again. 

 

He thought back to the week. It had been quiet compared to last week, no emotional trauma or instability, just scavenging for materials and killing ferals and mirelurks to set up settlements for those that supported the Minutemen. Just traveling with MacCready. Images flowed like a lazy slideshow through his head; MacCready leaning against an abandoned building, taking a too-large bite of a sweet roll, peering through his binoculars at something or other, petting Dogmeat when he thought Dick wasn’t looking, reloading his gun, holding his breath for just a second to line up the perfect shot, glancing over with bright blue eyes to make sure he was doing something right or waiting for instruction, wrapping his lips around a cigarette and letting the smoke curl out of his mouth in thin tendrils. 

 

He sighed heavily, letting the air expand his lungs, felt it slowly leave, watched the fog from the cold mimic the smoke from MacCready’s lungs, as if exhaling the same addiction. 

 

“Can’t sleep, huh?”

 

He hadn’t even heard MacCready get up, let alone get as close as he did. Dick cracked an eye, looking up to an upside-down view of the mercenary. He shook his head, closing his eyes again. He couldn’t be bothered to put up a front, not anymore. Not in the dead of night, alone in the stars with his dog and his… well, his friend. Not with the eyes of a million stars watching him. He let his walls fall, just for a moment, his brow furrowing unhappily. MacCready hovered for a few heavy heartbeats before he finally moved, settling in the grass beside the wanderer. 

 

“Cap for your thoughts?”

 

“Insert coin,” Dick murmured, opening his eyes to look up to the stars, feeling more than seeing the mercenary’s gaze on him. “I have too much on my mind. I can’t stop, not for a minute, not for a second, it feels like. Like I’m running out of time. I  _ am  _ out of time. I just want one moment, to breathe, and feel like a person again, and  _ feel  _ again something other than frustration or anger or regret or pain. I keep trying. Nothing works.”

 

“Like sleeping with people?” 

 

Had that been bothering him? Dick wondered about it, searching for the Ursa Major constellation. “Better to focus on someone else than to spend a night alone with your thoughts, I figured.” The words are out of his mouth before he realizes what he said, and he blinks in surprise. He had no idea that was his reason, but his subconscious supplied the answer. He’d thought it was for the intimacy, to feel something again, and maybe it was, to a small degree. But it was true; the destructive breakdown of his sanity in the small hours of the night, alone, were too painful to deal with sometimes, and having another person to focus on and entertain kept them at bay. 

 

“Does it ever mean anything to you?”

 

He thinks about this answer for a while. “Not really.” Cop-out answer, and he knows it, so he elaborates. He wants MacCready’s trust, for whatever reason. “Sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn’t. It depends on the person. Like with Cait, or Piper, it didn’t mean anything. With Hancock, it’s more like a stress relief.” MacCready gapes.

 

“You slept with Mayor Hancock? And Piper?”

 

“Piper and I did the first time we met, but we haven’t again. Now we just get drunk and talk shit in the Dugout Inn. As for Hancock… We hook up once in awhile. He fascinates me. I’ve got major respect for him. Does no harm, takes no shit. I’m still trying to figure him out. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the sweet threads.” He doesn’t get the laugh he expected; MacCready seems to be mulling the new information over. “It’s just stress relief with him, we both aren’t attached to it but it’s nice to have that fallback,” he reiterates, unsure why he felt the need to cover his tracks. “It’s getting tiring. I thought I could fill the void of loneliness with it, but meaningless sex is starting to wear out its welcome.” He’d had his experiment for a while, but now he just felt empty as ever. 

 

“I’ve been there,” MacCready admits. Dick wants to ask, but can’t find the words. The mercenary turns his head to look to the stars, too. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Always.” 

 

“Your face… you have a lot of scars. I know some are from being out here, but some are really old. What happened? It’s not like there was a lot of combat in the streets before the nukes, right?” MacCready wasn’t a subtle guy, anyway. “I know you keep giving bullshit answers, I’ve heard maybe ten different stories.”

 

Dick smiled grimly. Anytime someone asked, he made something up; Yao Guai, raiders, super mutants, crazy knife accident, overexcited dogmeat, a jealous ex girlfriend. Just some fun for him, really, but he actually felt a friendship with this guy. Maybe it was the proximity effect; they’d been together for almost a month now, constantly, every day, every hour. 

 

“I’m not ashamed of them. It’s just fun to fuck with people, I guess. Back during the War, I was in the air force. Pararescue. One day, we were dropped in a heated battle to extract some guys when all of a sudden, it was like the other guys just… vanished. We had no idea what happened. What was  _ going  _ to happen. There was a vertibird, and it flew overtop of us. And this… huge  _ thing  _ dropped out. We had no idea what it was. And by the time we could even think to escape, it’d killed half my squad.” He closed his eyes, visualizing. “It turned out to be one of the first field tests for a Deathclaw.” MacCready’s breath hitched. “It was terrifying. We just kept shooting, and it just kept coming, kept raking through guys with its claws or picking them up and slamming them down or ripping them apart with its jaws. I guess I’ve always been a little on the lucky side. It swiped for me, and it felt like poison in its claws. Only the very tips managed to reach my face when it finally gave in to the rain of bullets we’d been pumping into it. It was still fighting to stay alive, but it was down, shaking, growling, and we hauled ass outta there.” He quieted. MacCready was processing. He could hear the gears turn in his head. “So… that’s why I keep looking at Deathclaws, I guess, when we pass them. That thing managed to survive the war, the bombs, two hundred years of wasteland. How lucky were we to be able to take one down? They’re a modern marvel of pre-war science, and a fitting tribute to our old leaders. They’d do anything to win, without even thinking about how much we’d lose.”

 

“Jesus…” MacCready breathed. “I can’t believe it.”

 

“Well, look on the bright side. Even one of those fuckers couldn’t ruin this beautiful face,” he said cheekily. MacCready chuckled.

 

“Yeah. Right. ‘Beautiful.’ If it helps you get up in the morning…” He trailed off, laughing at the gentle ‘hey, now,’ from the vault dweller. They were quiet for a beat, just appreciating company and the stars. Dick had to admit, it was… nice. Talking. Even if he didn’t vent, it was nice to just talk and learn more and share and have someone to watch his back and rely on and confide in. “It’s good to be out on the open road. Goodneighbor was starting to wear out its welcome.”

 

“Sounds like it was pretty rough back there,” he replied, concerned.

 

“Rough?” He scoffed. “That’s putting it mildly. Hard to get much rest when you’re sleeping with one eye open.” He folded his hands behind his head, scanning the stars. Dick hoped he was looking for answers, the way he did when he searched them. “Still, it was the best place for me to set up shop. Diamond City’s goons would’ve run me outta town, and wandering the Commonwealth alone isn’t exactly the best plan when you’re hard up for caps.”

 

Dick frowned. “Doesn’t seem like caps are worth risking your life.”

 

Another scoff. “Easy for you to say. Right now, I need every cap I can get.”

 

“Are you in trouble?” His response is immediate. He’d tear up the Commonwealth if necessary.

 

“No, not really, but…” He chewed his lip, thinking. “I don’t go around usually sharing stuff like this, but you’ve been pretty straight with me, so I’m gonna be straight with you. Those two assho-” He cut himself off with a growl. “Those two  _ idiots  _ you saw me talking to, back at the Rail? Winlock and Barnes? They’ve been hounding me, for  _ months,  _ and it’s driving off my customers. No one wants to touch me when they learn I used to run with the Gunners. So I thought, maybe if I get enough caps together, I could just buy them out.”

 

“I’m not sure I’d trust them, even if you did pay them off,” Dick mused.

 

“I’m right there with you.” He sounds defeated. “They have a small army with them at all times. They may just keep the caps and put a bullet in my head for good measure.” The mental image makes Dick sick to his stomach. “If I set up a place to meet them, they’d roll in with everyone they’ve got.” He sighed. Then, the air changed, subtly. “Unless…” Dick felt his gaze turn to him. He turned his head to regard him, to lose himself in the hope in the deep blue of his eyes. “Maybe you and I could pay them a visit and put an end to them, before they even realize what’s happening. And before you get that look on your face, I wouldn’t ask you unless I trusted you.” Dick’s heart skips. To have a declaration of trust, in this wasteland of hell, felt more intimate and sincere than a declaration of love ever did. 

 

“If you need me, whatever it may be, I’m there.” 

 

MacCready’s eyes widen, just a fraction, like he wasn’t expecting the answer. “Wow… I don’t know what to say.” He looked back to the sky, avoiding his gaze. “Truth is… I haven’t been able to rely on anyone since I was a kid. Everyone I’ve met has either tried to rip me off or plant a knife in my back. But you…” He looked back to the wanderer, regarding him in a different light. “You’re different. We see eye to eye on almost everything. And I have a funny feeling you  _ actually care  _ about what happens to me. That’s why I asked for your help.” He propped himself up on one elbow, facing Dick, who regarded him curiously. “I’ll make this easy on you. If you wanna help me on this, head to the Mass Pike Exchange and we’ll take them down.” He reached for Dick’s arm, turning the dial to the map and marking its location for him. “If not… well, I won’t hold it against you.” He settled back to the ground, eyes back to the sky. “Either way, thanks for hearing me out. It’s nice to know that you care.”

 

And God, did he care.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the mass pike interchange and hubris comics.

Dick adjusted the padding strapped over his chest. “It’s too small.”

 

“That’s cause you’re built like a fu- hrrrg, built like a freaking tank.” MacCready buckled the strap across his back. “But I’ll feel better. They’ve got too many guns, and there’s only one you and a sword. If you’re gonna walk up to a loaded shotgun, I want to at least know you’ve got  _ some  _ padding underneath.” 

 

Dick gripped the hilt of his sword. “I don’t have a choice.” He ducks his head as MacCready walks around to his front, eyeing the hand steadied on the pommel. 

 

“I know.” It was almost soothing. He was relieved the mercenary didn’t try to push him to use guns. Sure, he could  _ try  _ a shotgun, as those were best for the unsteady of hand, but in the end, he had control, had power, felt useful up close and personal. They were near the MPI, and MacCready loaded up his rifle. Dick lined up an Auto-Injector, just in case. He did the same for his partner, who didn’t even look up. Dick would’ve lingered on that level of trust if they weren’t about to head into combat. Instead, he slid on his road duster.

 

A ways off, MacCready took point, picking off Gunners one by one until they caught on. Locating the source, they aimed fire in that general direction, but Dick and Dogmeat were already closeby, throwing themselves into the small group of Gunners. 

 

He honestly couldn’t tell when he stopped having to swing, or how many people he killed versus crippled. They tried to swarm him, at first, but that just made it too easy to take them down. The final two hid behind trucks. Dogmeat snuck up on the man on the left, giving Dick the opportunity to charge in and strike. The other sprinted off, further down the Interchange, probably to warn the others. Good enough. MacCready was already heading towards them, but he bent over the terminal they’d spotted, setting to work. It was almost ridiculous how easy it was to get in; the password practically gave itself away. 

 

“Still blows me away that you can just  _ do  _ that,” MacCready mused, reloading bullets into his gun. He ignored him, instead sending the command to shut down the turrets and spotlights, hearing the distant whirr of machines turning off. 

 

They made their way down the exchange, the mercenary using a hunting rifle instead at close range, saving Dick’s neck more than once. 

 

The assaultron was the toughest. No matter what he did, it felt like Dick couldn’t get through the tough metal. It took too long to take it down, even with all three of them attacking, but it finally exploded. Panting, he dropped the bullets from his gun, taking his trusted blade back out. 

 

Winlock crouched behind a barrier, shooting in their direction. He and MacCready faced off while he and Dogmeat snuck around to attack. It worked; he didn’t realize the two were there until he was tearing the battery from his armor, throwing it off the interchange, plunging a knife deep into the joint of his knee. He roared, dropping down, trying to unlock the armor to exit. It only provided more time, and as he backed out of the suit, Dick shoved his blade through the man’s exposed back. 

 

He panted for breath. One more. One more, just Barnes. He was fatigued already; they’d taken down far too many in one shot, his muscles were starting to scream from exertion. His lungs burned, working overtime. The pump of adrenaline, the one he usually tamped down and worked through, was winning, making him want to flee, to preserve. Instead, he wiped the blood off his mouth, nodding to MacCready as they advanced. 

Barnes was ready for them. His protectron was taken out with one well-aimed shot by the sharpshooter, and Dick let out a cry of effort as he lunged, swiping for his chest. The man was trying to back out of his space, running backwards as he shot. Seeing this, he edged around, circling him back, until he was in range for the mercenary. Dogmeat latched onto his arm, and Dick was on him before he could aim for the canine. Then, with one aimed bullet to the temple, Barnes dropped to the ground. 

 

“Holy shi-shoot… we did it. We  _ did it!”  _ MacCready whooped and hollered, jumping into the air. “Heck yeah!” He jogged over to the Dweller, who was panting, bent over with his hands on his knees. Not unusual after a fight, but still impossible to get used to. It was like his body  _ refused  _ to condition, like someone had tied bands around his lungs and poured lead into his veins. “I’m gonna piss on ‘em.”

 

“Oh, come on, Mac. That’s gross,” he said, though he was grinning.

  
“Hey. Just a little bit. Just a little in the mouth.”

 

“Okay, now I’m gonna barf,” the dweller laughed, shoving the mercenary a step back. He stumbled, but he was all grinning, ear to ear. 

 

“ _ That  _ should send a message to the Gunners to stay off my back.” 

 

Dick stood to a fuller height, though still his breathing was ragged. “You don’t think they’re gonna come back for you?”

 

“You’d think so, right? But I know these losers. It’s all about the bottom line,” he assured him, tapping a finger to his temple. “They just lost this entire waystation, and that cost them  _ big.  _ Besides, they have no way of knowing I was involved.” That cocky grin of his. Dick was sure that was the common link of all his trouble. “Anyway, I guess I owe you a favor now. You hired me, but I dragged you out here.”

 

“And let you have all this fun by yourself?” Dick asked, deadpanning. 

 

MacCready laughed. “I’m glad  _ you  _ had fun. Listen, why don’t I give you back the caps from Goodneighbor? That way we’ll be nice and even.” He must’ve seen the protest on his face, because he held up a hand. “I’ll still stick with you, because that was part of the original deal, but now we’re even.” Dick didn’t need the caps. Hell, he paid MacCready every week, not to mention when they went to the bar or ate somewhere. Caps seemed easier to come by than money did before the war, but then again, he had the luxury of being able to handle himself while scavenging. However, it seemed important to him. Really important. So Dick accepted the caps silently. “So, I guess we’re done here. Lead on, boss.”

 

Hubris comics was difficult to bust into. The door had been locked and busted, and neither of them were good enough to pick it. Eventually, it ended with Dick ramming his entire body weight against the weak point of the door until it splintered off. 

 

“Jesus, remind me not to get in your way,” MacCready said. Apparently even now, his strength still shocked people. He rolled his shoulder, shooting a grin over to him, and lead the way inside. Kent Connelly had flagged them down, asked them to retrieve the costume of the Silver Shroud. And who was he to say no? It was his favorite superhero, anyway. He immediately zeroed in on the terminal, clicking away at the keys. Only an unlock, but he clicked it anyway. Behind him he heard the latch open, and turned to see a replica of Gognak’s Axe. 

 

“Oh. My  _ Goooood.”  _ Okay, he was excited. He lifted it, feeling the sturdy weight in his hands.

 

“Boss, we ain’t alone,” Maccready announced. He turned to see the ghouls crawling down from the holes in the ceiling, hissing and growling. He felt… giddy. A giggle burbled from his lips as he leapt in, swinging his new toy. It sliced so cleanly through the rotting flesh that it felt unreal. He went to town, swinging and spinning and crushing any ghoul in his way. He stood amongst a pile when they stopped.

 

MacCready was staring, wide-eyed. “That… whoa. You’re crazy.” It was good-natured, so Dick wiggled his fingers, laughing maniacally. MacCready chuckled. “Oh god. Someone take the toy away from him.” They perused the bottom floor, mostly burned comics. “If I could just find the issue where Mastadonald and Skullpocalypse team up to fight Grognak, I’d have a complete set.”

 

“You collect comics, MacCready?” Dick asked, rifling through a Silver Shroud comic, tucking it safely into his bag. 

 

“Eh, I did as a kid. Now… well, I hold onto the favorites,” he admitted, sheepish. 

 

“I’ll keep an eye out.” They advanced up the stairs, to find more ghouls, a key to the store room, and…

 

“Oh my god. MacCready!!!” He whipped around, hands full. “Nuka Cola Quantums!  _ Four of them!!” _

 

The merc rolled his eyes. “I thought you were dying. C’mon, let’s check out the studio.”

 

They reached the top floor, and Dick felt a bubble of giddiness. “Mac, it’s the Silver Shroud. He’s my favorite. Seriously.” A ghoul crawled out from behind the set, but the two dispatched it with ease. He wandered into the control room. 

 

MacCready whined, shielding his eyes when he flicked the lights on. The Shroud theme played loudly. “This is so fucking sweet,” he breathed, loading the holotape onto his Pip-Boy. He finally took the costume for himself, digging around for more. He held the SMG to his chest, tucking it safely with the rest of the costume in his pack. They found more chems, and a trunk full of clothing. Some suits, a wig - “Hubba hubba, baby,” he breathed, imitating Elvis - and…

  
  


“Okay, this is the best day of my life.” Gognak’s costume, right at the bottom of the trunk. “MacCready, turn around.”

 

“You aren’t-”

 

“ _ Yes.” _

 

A long suffering sigh was his response, but Dick didn’t care. He stripped down, shoving his T shirt and jeans into his pack, sliding on the loincloth of the barbarian. He gripped the axe. “Well? You come to lair of virgin eater! Now you die!!”

 

MacCready rolled his eyes. “More like lair of the virgin.” 

 

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Dick pouted. The man gave him a once over, and he didn’t miss the flush that rose to his cheeks. He moved towards the mercenary, grabbing him by the waist and dragging him closer with one arm. “Corsair Queen, Grognak come to save you~!”

 

MacCready shoved him away, laughing. “I am  _ not  _ the corsair queen. No bosom for you.”

 

“Awwww...” Dick pouted, trying not to smile.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the silver shroud. (in which dick is a huge nerd.)

“You… you found it!” 

 

Kent was beyond thrilled when they returned with a signed photo  _ and  _ script for him as well as the costume. He voiced his concern for wearing it, and pleaded that he take on the job. 

 

Running around in the Shroud’s outfit? Fighting crime? 

 

Oh yeah. No way in hell he was passing that up. 

 

He spent the day fighting crime, leaving calling cards, taking on the the Shroud’s mannerisms. As they re-entered the town, the radio played another announcement. “The good mayor of Goodneighbor wants to meet with the Silver Shroud. Seems important. Could this be the union of the century?”

 

Union was right. Dick grinned, beelining for the office.

 

“Well, well. Guess what someone tells me? Some costumed freak is operating in Goodneighbor. And here’s the kicker: it’s not me.” Dick smirks at the purr in his friend’s - with benefits - voice. He waves Fahrenheit off, who takes a brisk walk outside the door. She tugs MacCready along, who starts to protest, but shuts his mouth when he realizes. Dick would  _ love  _ to do exactly what he was thinking, but he had a feeling Hancock meant business. The ghoul took a long drag of his cigarette, drinking in the sight of the man towering over him from his position on the couch. “How should I feel about this?” 

 

“This neighborhood is ill.  _ I  _ am the cure,” he announced, trying to keep the steely look of the Shroud.

 

“You’re priceless. Just priceless. Like the Shroud walked right outta a comic book and into my den. Priceless.” He chuckled around his cigarette. “You been runnin’ around, scarin’ people, bashin’ in some faces. I respect that,  _ Shroud.  _ But I gotta ask, one freak to another, why the getup?” 

 

Dick wants to break character, just to tease him. But it’ll be more effective if he keeps it up. “Many have sought to pierce the Shroud, to no avail.”

 

Hancock laughed. “You just don’t stop. You stay you, babe. Listen, the lowlifes you took out all belong to the same asshole, and he’s plannin’ some old-fashioned revenge on you, you dig? Lucky you, I want Sinjin to take a dirt nap.” 

 

“He  _ will  _ be judged for his crimes,” Dick announced. 

 

“Oh yeah. He needs a lot of judging. There’s two of ‘em. Smiling Kate and Northy. Northy’s a coward, holed up in Prospect. Smiley’s trying to take you out. Pile on the body bags, and it’ll lead you right to the big guy.”

 

“Sinjin thinks he is above judgement, but no one is safe from the Silver Shroud.”

 

“Don’t get killed out there. I’d hate to lose my favorite…  _ hero. _ ” There’s a lilt in his voice that would otherwise send a shiver down his spine. Hancock tossed the butt of his cigarette away. As Dick moved to leave, he paused at the voice behind him. “Oh, and Shroud? You come back here when you’re done with all that. And uh, leave the costume  _ on.”  _ The sweet promise has him grin over his shoulder, all toothy and sharklike. He opened the door, nodding to MacCready to head out.

 

They sat under the stars that night. No way they’d walk into Kate’s ambush at night. 

 

“So,” he started, sitting in the grass beside MacCready. “How does it feel to be the sidekick to the Silver Shroud?” 

 

He grinned, eyes closed. “Man, I used to dream about this stuff as a kid,” he said, chuckling. Dick eyed him for a moment. 

 

“Are we talking innocent childhood aspirations, or jerk-off material here?”

 

MacCready’s blush is obvious even in the night, and he tugged his hat down to further hide his face. Dick chuckled, smacking his friend gently on the arm. He moved back over to the fireplace to leave him in his embarrassment at being caught, cozying up to Dog to sleep. 

 

Finding and taking down Northy and Smiling Kate were easy. The hard part was coming home to the distressing message on the radio. Kent had been taken by Sinjin. Roaring in frustration, he grabbed his sword, whipping on heel to head to the factory. 

 

He and MacCready blasted through with such a vengeance that three of the little grunts surrendered. He had merely spat for them to leave, slamming the button of the elevator with a heavy fist. He stepped out into the light, coat whipping behind him with his smart steps.

 

“Ah, not a step closer, Shroud, or we see the inside of Kent’s head.” A soft whimper from the crouching ghoul.

 

“You shield yourself behind an innocent life. You are  _ craven,  _ Sinjin. And you shall fall before me.”

 

“Don’t talk to me like that. These idiots believe in that bullshit. But you and I know you’re human.”

 

“I have cut a path through your foolish thugs. Who’s to say I am not the Shroud?” 

 

“Don’t listen, men,” Sinjin purred, trying to keep the head of his thugs. “He’s a phony. So I’m gonna kill Kent. And then you. Then I’m going to Goodneighbor and killing every last worthless bastard there and burn it down. No one fucks with Sinjin.”

 

Dick glowered. What he’d give to cut a hole through this guy’s throat now. “I am the instrument of justice. And I cannot fall.  _ Death  _ has come for you, evildoer, and  _ I am its Shroud!” _

 

“Rrrg... Stop  _ talking  _ like that!”  _ Now  _ he’d lost it. 

 

“It is the Shroud. It really is! Fuck this, I’m outta here!”

 

Sinjin roared in anger, but Dick was already climbing the banister. MacCready shot his hand, just as planned, making him drop his gun and giving Dick the time to leap over the railing, plunging his blade through the ghoul’s chest. He ripped it out through the side, dropping him immediately. 

 

Most of his thugs scampered off, though one or two stayed behind to face the Shroud. He dealt with them with ease, and tucked his blade away to kneel beside Kent.

 

“Are you okay?” He breathed, back to his normal voice now. The poor ghoul was shaking like a leaf, and the man helped him rise. 

 

“I thought I was a goner. I… I can’t do this, Shroud. I just… give up. On all of it. Crime fighting isn’t what I thought it would be.”

 

Dick felt his heart sink. No, no no. Kent’s enthusiasm and gentle hope had been the whole reason he had agreed in the first place. He didn’t want to believe the torture and kidnapping had snuffed out the light in him. No, no, it wasn’t right. “B-but, if you just quit, then the bad guys have already won!”

 

Kent looked up at him for a moment. “You… you’re right. But I’m tired. I just wanna go home. Back to Goodneighbor. Thanks for saving me, and everything, but…” 

 

He left, and MacCready looked to him expectantly. Dick sighed. “I know he’s upset, but I just want something to go right, just one time.”

 

“What? I think everything went pretty well, boss. He’s alive, the bad guys are dead, you’re the Silver Shroud.” MacCready frowned.

 

“But look at him. I ruined his life. He had so much hope, and now…” He let out a growl of frustration. He whipped on heel, leading the way back to town.

 

Back in Hancock’s office, Kent is already there. “So, down goes Big Bad Sinjin. We get to walk the tightrope of freedom another day.”

 

“You played your part in serving justice to those most deserving of it,” he replied, trying to keep up the cheerful charade for Kent, one more time.

 

“I’m gonna miss these little conversations,” Hancock admits with a smile. He turned to Kent. “Hey, my man, why the long face?”

 

Kent shook his head. “I was t-tortured. I almost died. It’s not like the radio plays at all!”

 

Hancock gripped his shoulder gently. “Hey, now. Who hasn’t been tortured from time to time? The price of throwing down with the man is always a few scars. Goodneighbor is just a little safer thanks to the two of you.”

 

“And where would the Shroud be without his faithful friend, Rhett Rheinhart?” Dick added gently. 

 

Kent sniffed. “I guess you’re right. I’ll start the radio up in a week or so. I’ve got some ideas for the costume, you know, make it better. But right now, I’m tired. I just wanna go home.”

 

“Thank you, Kent,” Dick said, watching him shut the door behind himself, leaving them alone. He looked to find MacCready, but the man had disappeared. He hoped he caught on that Dick wouldn’t be at the hotel tonight, and looked back to Hancock. A firm hand pressed him to the couch, and he dropped when the backs of his knees his the cushions, Hancock sliding with ease into his lap.

 

“Just for a minute, Dick. Let’s talk.” He grips the ghoul’s hips, steadying him, looking into the blacked out scleras. A coarse hand wiped some stray grime from his face. “How are you holding up? It’s been awhile since you graced my office with your presence.”

 

“I know. I missed you.” It’s true. The mayor has an easy command on him, attracts him like a magnet. 

 

“You been busy out there,” he remarks. It’s not a question. Dick nods. “And running with MacCready? Can’t say I saw that one coming.”

 

“You know me, John. Can’t shoot for shit. I could use someone skilled with a rifle. He comes in handy. And he’s a good friend.” He is. Even now, he’s starting to miss the mercenary’s company. He smoothed his hands down the mayor’s thighs, just touching for comfort. 

 

“Mm.” Whatever Hancock is thinking, Dick can’t figure it out. A hand smoothes through his hair, putting the hat on the coffee table behind him. “So, Shroud, you think you can stop me?” 

 

“You cannot escape the punishment of the Silver Shroud, incubus,” he replied, tilting his head back to appease the sudden tug of his hair, granting the mayor a better angle to catch his lips.

 

The morning comes too soon, but Hancock tugs him back to bed for one more quick fuck before he left. He puts on a pair of khakis and a black button down, something simpler. After the events of the last three days, he’s exhausted, too. He glances back to Hancock, still lounging in bed, undressed, an inhaler in hand, watching him dress. 

 

“What’s your next move, brother?” He drawls lazily. Dick shrugs. 

 

“Not kill myself, I guess.” He hoists his bag to his back, adjusting the strap of the two-way radio on his chest. “Head back to Sanctuary, take a breather before I run back into this hellstorm.”

 

“Visit me again soon, right? Keep fighting the good fight.” 

 

He leaves, already looking for MacCready. He finds him at Daisy’s, greets her warmly. She always loved him, ever since they talked about life before the war.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> maccready and preston both have favors to ask.

Out on the open road, they travel in silence for a while, just listening to Dogmeat barking happily, bounding along the trail and the music playing from his Pip-Boy. He’s got the volume on low, just as background noise, but after a while Dick gets annoyed. He switches it off, listening instead to the chirp of mutated crows and birds, the scuttling of various animals and bugs. He stopped to watch a pair of Radstags staring back, before they bounded off. 

 

MacCready let out a soft cough. “Hey, I never got a chance to properly thank you for helping me with Winlock and Barnes.”

 

Dick watched the Radstags as they disappeared over the hill. “No thanks necessary. We’re friends.” 

 

“W-well, I wanted to say it anyway. You stuck your neck out for me, and I don’t forget shi- ah, stuff like that.”

 

Dick finally turned to look at him. “You can curse all you want, you know. I’m not your mother.”

 

“Ha, ha. Very funny. It’s not about you, it’s about a promise I made.” The man stood beside him now, hands in his pockets, looking out to the wastes. “When I left the Capital Wasteland, I didn’t just leave Little Lamplight behind. I left my family behind. I had a beautiful wife, Lucy. And our son, Duncan.” Dick searched his face, but the man wouldn’t look at him. “He’s the one I made my promise to. To clean up my act, become a better person. I guess that sounds pretty fu- pretty stupid, coming from a guy who shoots people for a living.” He looked down to his boots, scuffing one onto the rock he stood on.

 

“I’m sure you had a good reason to leave,” he offered gently.

 

“I keep telling myself that.” He closed his eyes, upset. “My son, he’s sick. I- I don’t know what’s wrong with him. One day he’s playing in the fields behind our farm, and the next he’s got a fever and blue boils all over his body. Last I saw him, he was almost too weak to walk. I couldn’t ask him to come with me. Honestly, I’m not sure how much longer he’ll last.”

 

Dick’s face was screwed in concentration. Where had he heard of that before? Blue boils? Fever? Rapid onset? He clawed through his memory. Just before MacCready started to get worried, he snapped his fingers. “The New Plague. They were researching it before the War. It killed a whole lot of people and sent the US into Quarantine. They never found a cure for it.” He looked to MacCready again. “Do you think that’s it?”

 

MacCready looked upset, and for a minute he regretted it. “I’m not sure. No one is. And it’s been a few months, and he’s still alive. I can’t know for sure.”

 

“There must be something we can do for him,” he pressed.

 

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He wrung his hands out. “You’ve already done so much for me, I feel horrible asking for more. But if you’re willing to risk it, I  _ might  _ have a way we can save him.” 

 

“Then we’d better get to it. Whatever you need, I’m there.” 

 

MacCready’s relief was staggering. “I... Just a few months before we met, I bumped into a guy named Sinclair whose buddy caught some disease. He wasted my time until he started talking about blue boils. They dug up information about a place called ‘Med-Tek’ research, and even got the security codes. But his buddy died before he could reach the facility. But there’s no way it’s coincidence! It has to be it, right?” His hope catches him like a fish on a hook. 

 

It sounds familiar. Vaguely, but it does. Dick is willing to bet that some weird strand of the virus had mutated and survived over the years. He could only hope they actually managed to find a cure before the bombs fell. “Don’t give up hope, MacCready. If there’s a cure, we will find it.”

 

A sigh of relief lets the tension drop from his shoulders. He sinks him with those goddamned blue eyes of his. “Thanks, partner.” Dick’s heart throbs in his chest at the simple phrase. “I’ll put it on your map. When you’re ready, just take us out there. I’ve got all the codes.” Then, he broke eye contact, looking at his boots. “What you’re doing… no one’s ever cared that much about me before. Even if it takes the rest of my life… I’ll repay this debt to you. I swear it.” 

 

Dick wants to insist that it’s okay. That there is no debt to pay. That just being in his company is enough. Instead, he pulls out a precious bottle of Quantum, hands the cap to MacCready, and drinks. 

 

They make it to Sanctuary midday. They’re hungry, exhausted, dehydrated, and weak. Dick had gone over it; three days in Sanctuary, then they’d head out. Just to recover. He’d agreed.

 

He’s just finished putting the newly scavenged clothes in their drawer, the last of his scavenging, when he feels someone else’s presence. He glances over to see Preston leaning against the doorframe. 

 

“I’m worried about you, General.” It shouldn’t make his knees weak, the way he says it. Dick says nothing, shutting the drawer and going to sit on the bed. He lets out a long, heavy sigh. Preston steps into the room, shuts the door, and Dick lays back, staring at the ceiling fans spinning lazily. Preston leans against the door. “You really are one of the good guys, you know.”

 

“Thanks, Preston. I already know you think so.” He’s tired, and the urge to pull Preston to bed and curl up with him is overwhelming, so he hides his face by slinging an arm over his eyes.

 

“I know. But I don’t think you really get it, General. How… unusual you are. Ever since we met, I think you know I’ve really come to respect you, as a leader, and as a friend. Most people are just out for themselves. Even the ‘good’ ones. But you’re different.You really  _ care  _ about other people. Even when it’s not convenient or safe.” He hears the door creak, and a weight settles beside him on the bed. He peeks out for a second at Preston’s back, sitting beside him. “I’ve seen you risk your life more than once to help people just because it’s the right thing to do. Getting Nick out of that vault. All of that Silver Shroud stuff. Taking back the castle. Clearing settlements, running into live fire and  _ literal  _ fire just to Stimpack Dogmeat. Hell, even now, you’re helping MacCready out, and for what? No reason but to be a good friend. I just want you to know, that… well, that it matters. You really are making a difference.”

 

Dick mulls it over for a while. He reached his free hand out tentatively for a moment, thinking, before just going for it and resting it gently on the small of his lieutenant’s back. He feels the muscle underneath tense for a moment, then relax. “Thanks, Preston. If  _ any  _ of that is true, a lot of it is because of you. You make me want to be a better person.”

 

“I- wow. Thank you, Dick.” The rare use of his name isn’t lost on him. “That means a lot, coming from you.” Dick can see the gears turning in his head. Processing. Preston wasn’t the type to take something and run with it. He liked to think about everything. Process all information before he moved forward. The general knew better than to press his right-hand man for more, be it information, trust, relationship status, anything. It was a very passive, ‘wait for it’ mentality, and it made their friendship rewarding. He trusted Preston more than anyone else in the Commonwealth, in the end. They’d come a long way, and still had more to go. He pulled his hand away, crossing them on his chest. Preston let out the breath he had been holding. “When do you leave for Med-Tek?”

 

“Three days,” he murmured, sleepiness already tugging. It was nice to talk to Preston, even emotional stuff like this. It all felt so natural, with him. 

 

“You need a break.” 

 

He’s right, but Dick won’t admit it. He ran out of time two hundred years ago, and it felt like every second out here he was wasting it. “I can’t, Preston. Too many people need my help. Too many are relying on me.”

 

“Hey, I know we just talked about you helping people, but you’re running yourself into the ground.” He watched Preston hesitate, fidgeting with his own hands, before placing one on the general’s knee. Testing his own boundaries, wanting more than he’d allow himself to have. “What’ll it take for me to convince you to come back here after helping MacCready and take a week off?”

 

_ A reason,  _ Dick wanted to say. With no distraction, he’d just be waiting to leave again. And not just some meaningless hookup with someone, but an actual distraction, whatever it may be. A connection, an action, something that wasn’t the same as tying a chain to his throat and making him stay. He can only have the next best thing. “If it’ll make you feel better, I will.”

 

“Thanks, General. I don’t want you to get sick or hurt. I worry about you, out there. There’s only so much our radios can do. I don’t want to hear you die over them just because I couldn’t make you take a break.” That’s reason enough. He hated making Preston worry. “Anyway. You need to sleep. The bags under your eyes are getting bad.” 

 

He watched the lieutenant exit the room, making sure to shut the door quietly. He stripped of his clothing, in plain boxers, and crawled into bed, unconscious within minutes, barely registering the heat of Dogmeat beside him.

 

The next day, he barely leaves his bedroom. Dogmeat wandered off to eat, play, find someone to pet him, but during his downtime he’d come back to sleep. Dick drifted in and out for a while, but generally let his sore muscles rest. The three cats that had inhabited his home were less come and go; the black one stayed the entire day, not moving from his spot on the other pillow. The calico and tortoiseshell left the bed to sun on the carpet, or go to the living room to eat, or force someone to sit while they sat in their lap, purring. A knock on his door only brought to attention how badly his eyes were hurting. The early afternoon sun crawled through the window, and Sturges’ voice trailed through his ears like molasses. 

 

“Hey, hotrod. Er… I take it back. You like wiped.”

 

“Hey, Sturg. Are you okay?”

 

“See, that’s why Preston’s always so worried about you. You look like you’re gonna fall out, and you’re asking about me?” Sturges shook his head in mock shame, ‘tsk’ing him. “C’mon, I’m gonna make some lunch, and then you and me, we’re gonna work on the red house.” It was weird to take orders, but Sturges was a close friend, and he knew better. Dick crawled out of bed, and Sturges raised a brow. “Better get dressed before Cait sees you.”

 

He rubbed his forehead. “She’s still not over it?”

 

“You helped her kick her Psycho junkie habit. What’s not to like, Dick?” Sturges shrugged as the general slid on a ragged pair of jeans and his nuka-cola shirt. “Wanna hold hands when we walk past her?” He joked.

 

“Does it have to be when we walk past her, or can it be anywhere?” He replied, following the greaser out the door.

 

He wakes up the next day to Nick Valentine lounging in his room.

 

“Jesus!” He shoots up, scaring all three of the cats and Dogmeat. 

 

“No, just Nick. Thought I’d swing by while I was in town, but you just looked so angelic while you sleep,” he deadpanned. Dick threw his pillow at the synth, who caught it easily and tossed it on the bed. “I have some stuff to over with you about the Glowing Sea. I think we might have an answer for you.”

 

“Mmkay. I’m getting up, I’ll meet you out there.”

 

The day passes slowly, without incident. They talk on the bridge, eating iguana on a stick and watching the water flow through the river. He spends the afternoon helping Sturges start on new beds; their settler count is growing and they had to keep up. MacCready sits nearby, the three of them exchanging easy conversation.

 

“Nick, you need a place to sleep,” Dick said from his spot on the couch, realizing. The sun has long since set, and he and MacCready are due to set out tomorrow. “We didn’t finish the beds today.”

 

“I’m fine, I’ll sleep on the floor.” He waves it off.

 

“Just use my bed, Nick. I’m already half-asleep here,” MacCready offers, hat over his face on the smaller couch. Nick goes to protest, but MacCready waves it off. “Consider it my good deed of the year.”

 

Nick thanks him and disappears into the bedroom, needing to rest from his trip up there. It had been a long walk. Just him and MacCready now.

 

“You sure, Mac? You can always just share my bed. Plenty of room.” 

 

The mercenary waves him off. He shrugs, and bids him good night. The wanderer, an hour later, put his book down and stood, changing into his shorts for bed. The three cats were lined up on the headboard, like perfect statues, watching his every move, waiting. Dogmeat was already laying on his side of the bed. Dick knew what they were waiting for. He’s tugging his shirt off when there’s a knock at the door. 

 

He opens it to MacCready, who takes one look at his bare chest and flushes, looking at his boots. “ Uh… so there’s a spring loose in the couch and usually I’d just sleep on the floor but we’re heading out tomorrow anyway for Med-Tek and I remembered your offer to share the bed and honestly you’re the only one I trust enough to not stab me in the back when we sleep and- wait, is there even room with all these furballs?”

 

The mercenary’s nervous ramble makes him smile, and he looks over his shoulder at the animals, all waiting for him. He beckons him in, shuts the door behind himself. “Bed’s big enough if we all smush together.” Maybe he’s teasing MacCready, just a little, but he likes the way the pink dusts along his cheekbones. Maybe more than he should. He whistles to the dog, who jumps off the bed and sits patiently. He slides into bed, settling on his side, and sees MacCready still standing. “You coming or no?”

 

MacCready’s blush never leaves as he shrugs off his duster, leaves on just his pants and a t shirt. He crawled into bed, and like a loaded spring, all four animals leapt onto bed. He was glad he got comfortable, as the calico curled along the backs of his knees. The warm presence was… nice. Dogmeat is lying beside the wanderer, his face buried in the small of the man’s back. The black cat is on his pillow, curled around his head, and the tortie is pushing its way under his arm. Animal charmer, indeed. MacCready watches the back of his head, doesn’t respond to the soft ‘good night.’


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> med-tek and the glowing sea.

Dick wakes up first. It’s still early; the sun has just barely started to rise, bathing MacCready in a soft baby blue light. He looks peaceful. No more torment, no more worry or stress. Dick wondered if he looked like that, when he slept. Like he didn’t have the world’s troubles on his shoulders. He stayed for a while longer, watching the sunrise change his partner’s face. Finally, feeling a little uncertain and off-balance in a spiritual sense, he tossed off the blanket, heading to the kitchen to start packing for their trip.

 

MacCready pads out a short while later. Everyone else is still asleep. At least in the General’s house, they are. He looks good, all sleepiness and mussed hair. Dick adjusts his uniform; he’s back in the General’s outfit. It’s slowly becoming the most comfortable thing he owns, ever since he got Jun to adjust it a few inches bigger. He didn’t want to become like the other Wealthers and just wear it to rags, but wearing a consistent, perfectly fitting outfit made every day a little easier. Keeping up his wardrobe made him feel human, in the end, so it’d stay. MacCready reached over to fix his collar, catching Dick’s eye for just a second. Both of them find a weird hitch in their breath. He looked away, hand dropping when he realized what he’d done, going to the fridge to pull out something for breakfast. 

 

An hour later, they were leaving the settlement behind, en route to Med-Tek.

 

They arrived faster than he expected. Outside, feral ghouls were already waiting. It was nice to know what they were facing; usually, whatever lurked outside, lurked inside. And, if he was honest, ghouls were his favorite, in a grossly twisted way. They submitted to the sword easily, and he didn’t have to worry about getting shot at. Win-win. 

 

“Med-Tek,” MacCready breathed, once all the ghouls had perished. “Let’s hope Sinclair’s codes worked.”

 

They snuck through the blacked out lobby. “Let’s find the executive terminal.” They crept up the stairs, quietly disposing of any ghoul they ran across. Rather than guns blazing, for the first time, they’d try the indirect approach, in case they found the cure and something would upset it and break it. They entered a huge room, completely pitch black thanks to being completely blocked in with no windows. 

 

“‘S fine, didn’t need my eyesight anyway,” MacCready mumbled, clearly unnerved. Dick turned his Pip-Boy light on the lowest setting and jerked his head to the mercenary, who gripped the back of his coat with his off hand. They crept through, searching for a terminal that wasn’t broken. It was the third floor that held their answers. He checked the room, tossing the pack of cigarettes to Maccready, who pocketed them. He left the pistol alone, but took the ammo. Finally, he nodded to the terminal, rising to take a look. MacCready hovered close over his shoulder. Dick could feel the heat coming off of him. He plugged in the password, both sighing in relief when it worked. Dick clicked on the override and turned to MacCready. 

 

“Thank  _ god  _ that worked. Let’s head to the sub-level. That’s where they were working on the cure.” They retraced their steps, MacCready’s anxiety visibly growing the closer they got. Progress was long and slow, trying not to draw attention to themselves while still killing any ghouls they passed in an attempt to clear an escape route. Finally, after nearly two hours, they made it into the lowest part of the sub-level. Dick eyed the terminal outside the security doors of the lab. “God, I hope it’s in there,” MacCready whispered. 

 

“It will be,” he assured, not looking up from the terminal as he hunted through the code for a crack in the wall, letting him through. He sat back while MacCready sniped through three ghouls, dropping them before they even knew someone was there. They rose, completely alone together, searching the lab. Dick pocketed everything he saw; stimpacks, blood packs, chems. Supplies. He even took the surgical journal. 

  
“Do you see it anywhere?” MacCready asked, hopeful. Neither had seen it. Dick dropped to his knees, poking his head under the table. There, where it must have fallen and rolled, was a red vial. He snatched it up, reading the label. 

 

“Mac… this is it.”

 

The flood of relief was contagious. “We… we did it! Holy crap, we actually did it!” The crack in his voice almost knocks Dick to his knees. MacCready rushes up, grabs his lapels in excitement. “We just gave Duncan a fighting chance to live!” He let him go, taking the cure into his hands, turning it over and over, as if he couldn’t believe it was real. “For so long I’ve been searching, saving caps, hunting for a cure, and it’s just… here, in my hands! “ he chattered, unable to believe it was real. “I-I don’t know how-how I’ll ever be able to pay you back for this. I owe you big time,” he added, looking up with those damned blue eyes that, for once, were so full of hope and happiness that Dick almost grabbed him and never let go.

 

“All I care about is curing your son,” he said, one father to another.

 

“I know you do,” he breathed. “I’m just so tired of  _ taking  _ instead of giving. One day, maybe I’ll be able to get my priorities straight.” He adjusted the brim of his hat. “Anyway, the last step is getting this to Daisy in Goodneighbor. With her caravan contacts, she’s the only one I trust to get this to Duncan on time. This is the last favor I’m going to ask. I promise. Please, let’s- let’s go.”

 

Dick can’t deny him, leading the way back out through the darkness into the bright open sunshine. It’s the afternoon already, but they start the trek to Goodneighbor. They don’t arrive until night has fallen, and burst through the city doors. Luckily, Daisy is still at her counter, locking her supplies up. 

 

“MacCready! Haven’t seen you in a while. You haven’t been avoiding me, have you?” She rasps, winking at the vault dweller playfully.

 

“Now, how could I stay away from someone as cute as you, Daisy?” MacCready purrs. It brings a smile to Dick’s face. 

 

“You’re a lousy liar, but I’ll just play stupid and pretend I don’t know that,” she dismisses, smiling. “Now what brings such a gorgeous pair of gentlemen into my parlor so late?”

 

“I got it, Daisy,” he breathes, leaning over the counter. “I got the cure for Duncan’s disease!”

 

“Oh my god! How wonderful! How’d you do it? Last time, ferals almost chewed you to pieces.”

 

“I didn’t do it alone, this time. My friend here got me through. Now we just need to get it into his hands. Please, can you help me?”

 

“Of course, MacCready. You’ve saved my behind a few times. It’s the least I can do. You can trust me. I swear I’ll get it to him.”

 

The duo looked to him, and he realized they were waiting for his answer. “If MacCready trusts you to do it, I do, too.” He wasn’t sure what else to say; even that felt like he was intruding. This wasn’t his fight to fight… was it?

 

“I appreciate that,” Daisy replied. “MacCready isn’t so bad, once you get to know him.” She looked back to the mercenary. He did too, for a second. She was goddamn right. “I’ll have it on the first caravan out of the commonwealth. Driver owes me a few favors. He’s reliable. It’ll be at your homestead in no time.”

 

“Thanks,” MacCready breathes. “You’re a doll, Daisy.”

 

“Hey, do me a favor, hon,” she said to Dick. “Take care of MacCready for me. He’s one of the good ones.” He looked to the merc, who scuffed his boot sheepishly. They headed for the entrance to town.

 

“No hotel?” He asked, wary as ever. Dick shook his head. They walked a ways, until the moon was high over their heads. 

“I can’t believe it. I still can’t believe it.” MacCready is smiling, and it’s bright and pure and so genuine that Dick wants to cry. He can’t be sure the sun ever set. “You know, I should just give up being a merc and stick with you.” 

 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Dick replied, grinning over his shoulder. 

 

“I hope the good times last,” MacCready said, a solemn tone leaking into his jovial mood. “They rarely do.” 

 

There wasn’t an answer he could give. They carried on, Dick burdened by the storm brewing in his future.

 

They fell into a bit of a whirlwind after that. With Duncan’s cure on its way, they could focus on the task at hand: finding Shaun. They loaded up on Rad-X and Radaway, plunging into the crater that was Glowing Sea, leaving Dogmeat at Sanctuary.  It’s a blur, all of it is. They found a settlement in the crater, right in the middle. Cautiously, they approached, though all of them just directed the pair to “mother.” 

 

“Stop!” A voice from above them halts their advance. “You approach Atom’s holy ground. State your purpose or be divided in His sight.” She rounded the corner, coming down the stairs as he replied.

 

“I’m looking for someone named Virgil,” he called out as she stopped on the stair third from the bottom. 

 

“Virgil? Yes… I know this Virgil. Why do you seek him?”

 

“That’s my business,” he snapped. He was running out of patience, the closer they got to the Institute. 

 

“I see. In truth, this Virgil has caused some concern. Many believe he is an affront to Atom.” She drawled on about some bullshit, but finally pointed to his nearby cave. “Now, have you a moment to bask in Atom’s glow?” 

 

He stared at her. “The… what?”

 

“The dropping of the bombs was Atom’s cleansing. He creates through Division. By destroying what was, he Creates. Have you thought to seek Division, and become one with Atom? The salvation of the creator, to-”

 

Dick had heard enough. Was she serious? Preaching about the fucking  _ nukes?  _ He felt a lump in his throat, something bubble out of his chest, releasing as a scream. “Are you fucking  _ crazy?!”  _ He clenched his fists, teeth gritted. “You people expect me to worship the bombs? The fucking  _ bombs?  _ I could  _ kill you!  _ How  _ dare you?!”  _ He throws himself at her, feels his fist connect with her jaw. He draws back to hit her again, but he’s surprised when a pair of arms loops through his from behind, clenching up towards his shoulders, holding him back. All he could see was Nora, holding Shaun, cowering in terror as the mushroom cloud appeared in the distance, the wave of heat rolling like a storm closer to them. He still felt the heat as it roared past, overtop of the lowering elevator. He wanted to wrench free, but all his energy went into screaming at her. He didn’t know what he said. Most of it may even have been incoherent. He screamed and screamed, even as MacCready dragged him away, as she faded from view. 

 

“Dick, she can’t hear you anymore,” the merc encouraged from behind him, when they were far enough away, letting him go. He whipped around, gesturing wildly in the direction they came from. 

 

“How could they worship the one thing that destroyed our world? Destroyed  _ my  _ world? Ruined my life? How could you praise the fucking war none of us wanted?” He feels completely insane, like he has nothing to hold on to. His voice is completely shot, raw and raspy and actually gone in some places from the constant screaming. There is no response, only the sound of wind in the crater and his own ragged breathing. He screwed his eyes shut, letting his arms drop, his shoulders. “I didn’t want this…” Dick doesn’t know what part he’s talking about. Maybe all of it. War, losing Nora, losing Shaun, getting released from Cryo, travelling the Commonwealth, everything. The weight of it all was catching up to him, and it got heavier with every step he took towards the Institute. 

A gentle arm wrapped around his shoulder. It’s the first kind touch he’s had since he got out of the Vault. He’s shaken hands, had sex, petted Dogmeat, but this… it’s feather light, it’s crushingly heavy. It’s the first time something wasn’t expected of him, nothing expected in return. Dick wants so, so badly to cry. To let go, feel every emotion. But it felt bottled up, unable to open, locked away. So he just sighed, a heavy sigh that had a rattle from his lungs’ inability to expand fully, a sigh that dropped his forehead onto MacCready’s shoulder as the man wrapped his other arm around him. He feels like a broken glass; empty, irreparable. They stay there for a while, and Dick tries to focus on the warmth, the feeling of being held again, the need to let go, the inability to. Finally, too soon, a soft beeping came from his wrist. He stepped back as MacCready dropped his arms, hands going to his gun, unsure what to do or say. Nothing to say, really.

“Here,” Dick rasped, handing over a bag of Rad-X and tugging the cap off of a RadAway. He took his own and reset the timer. “C’mon. Let’s get moving. Virgil can’t be far off.”

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more to the story - vulnerability, under the stars.

And so it goes. He finds Virgil, lost in a cave, lost in thought. He makes a promise to find a serum in exchange for getting him into the Institute, and they exit just as quickly as they came. The trek to Sanctuary will be a long one, but as they reach the outskirts of the Glowing Sea, they relax. They walked a few more hours, just to make certain the wind wouldn’t blow any radiation in their direction. 

“Hold up… I think we need to talk.” The sky is a rich scarlet, burning across MacCready’s face when he turns to look at him. He’s exhausted, but his partner looks equally torn. 

“Is something wrong?” He asked. 

“Wrong? No, not at all. I just… I’ve been waiting for the right time to talk to you, and we’ve got a long road ahead, so I figured now is as good a time as any. I know it- I know you have a lot on your mind, with Shaun and the Institute and all, but I…” His hands were in his pockets, fiddling. “After helping me get Duncan’s cure from Med-Tek, I just feel like I owe you. I don’t like feeling like I’m in debt, and… anyway, here. I want you to have this.” He finally pulled his hands from his duster, pressing something small into Dick’s hands. He cradled the item, inspecting it. A tiny soldier, carved from wood. It was… cute. MacCready doesn’t even give him the chance to speak. “I-I know a toy wooden soldier is a strange reward for risking your  _ life,  _ that it might seem stupid, but it’s special. It means a lot to me.” 

Dick can see in this gift, this almost  _ unfair  _ exchange of risk of life to a toy, he can see how young MacCready really is, raised by a group of children. How sentiment, to him, in this wasteland, is still enough reward for risk. He glanced up, seeing the nervous hope in his eyes, in the way he chewed his lip, waiting for a response. All of this makes it perfect.

“If it means so much to you… It’s perfect. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” he said, with a clear flood of relief. “Just… please don’t lose it,” he added with a still-nervous laugh. Dick tucked the toy into the inner breast pocket of his coat, by his heart. He was grateful to his past self for getting the coat lined with pockets. “My wife, Lucy, she made it for me right after we met. I told her I was a soldier and she made it for me. I just… never could bring myself to tell her the truth. That I was just a hired  _ killer.”  _ A pained, breathy laugh cut through his voice. “The soldier story was the best I could come up with. I couldn’t lose her because of what I was.”

Dick toyed with the buttons on his coat’s cuffs. “You were protecting her,” he mused.

“I was protecting myself.” MacCready looked unsettled, but shook his head. “Doesn’t matter now. She died a few years back.” This is news to Dick. They’d talked only briefly about her, when he brought up Duncan and cursing. “We made the mistake of holing up in a metro station one night. Didn’t know it was infested with ferals.” Every feral they fought, every ghoul they encountered, every cry of ‘Ferals!’ from the past few months flooded his mind with guilt. How often had he dragged MacCready back into his own personal nightmare? How many times MacCready had shot ghouls off of him as they started to overwhelm him, how many times had it been a flashback to his wife? “They were on her before I could even fire a shot. Ripped her apart right in front of my eyes. There was nothing I could do.” His voice had lowered to a mumble. “It took everything I had to escape with Duncan in my arms. Maybe… maybe it would’ve been better if we died there with her.”

Dick felt a blow to his chest at the softness of his last words. How many nights had he lied awake thinking the same exact thing? Staring into the night sky, seeing ice crystals instead of stars, seeing the barrel of a gun instead of the moon? Dead together in that vault, free of the Commonwealth, the post-war life, the stress, the loss? 

“I think the same thing more than I care to admit. You may have lost your wife, but you saved your son. That has to count for something.” That’s more than Dick has, anyway. How long until he could say the same? 

“Maybe. I don’t know anymore.  _ Damnit,  _ I miss Lucy. No matter how bad it got, she was always there, with a shoulder to lean on. It gave me… well, it gave me the courage to press ahead. To never give up. And when she died… I thought that feeling was gone forever.” Dick forgets to breathe when MacCready finally makes eye contact again. “Then I met you.” He is helpless as the mercenary continues. “You have the world’s problems on your back, and here you are helping me with mine. Hell, even now, we’re trying to get you into the Institute to find your  _ son,  _ but you’re standing here listening to me. Lending me your shoulder like Lucy did. I just want you to know how much you mean to me.” 

Dick’s heart skips a beat. It’s been so long since he felt something like that, even before cryostasis. The choice of wording isn’t lost on him, and he inspects his partner for a long minute. MacCready was certain and almost happy when he said what he did, but under Dick’s careful eye he glanced away, his cheeks dusting in the sun’s red glow. He has a suspicion he doesn’t just mean as friends. But the wounds of talking about Lucy, and his wounds of trying to find Shaun and dredging up the painful memories of Nora, it’s all too much to pile on the table right now. So Dick shelves that, decides to come back to it later. 

“MacCready, meeting you…  _ hiring  _ you… has been one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. I’d spend a million caps if it meant being with you.” 

MacCready’s eyes widen, jaw slackening just a fraction. “I- wow, I, uh… I don’t know what to say,” he stammered, taken by surprise. Dick shook his head.

“You don’t have to say anything, just know I mean it.” Then, Dick turned, continuing their path before he did something stupid, like fall in love.

It’s another few hours before Mac pipes up again, only asking if they stop. The idea is repulsive; he wants to be back in Sanctuary, in his own bed, planning to find Shaun. But they’re in an unfamiliar area, more prone to attack, and he knew MacCready hated being out at night, vulnerable. And, he hated to admit it, but he was running on empty; his hands shook worse than ever, a steel vice had long since clamped around his lungs, making every step harder and harder. So instead he nodded, letting the man set up while he laid out in the late dusk. The only sounds to be heard were the chirping of mutated bugs and the distant rumbles of the storms in the Glowing Sea. The crackle of a fire soon joined the cacophony. Dick didn’t look over, but MacCready approached, lying beside him, separated by a few polite inches, though far closer than they’d ever been. The mercenary was blessedly quiet, the two watching the last streaks of light fade to allow the galaxy to start painting the sky. After a long time, MacCready broke the silence.

“RJ.” Dick glances over, though doesn’t turn his head. The man’s arms are supporting his head, as always, and he looks distant. “Short for Robert Joseph. Robert Joseph MacCready.” 

Dick mulled it over, tasting it without saying it. To think that neither of them had ever known their full names, and yet, he trusted this man with his life, watched his back, knew his story and shared his own. “I… I like it. It suits you.”

“You think?” MacCready scratches under the brim of his hat. “No one calls me that anymore. Everyone just uses MacCready.”

“Would you like me to call you that?” Dick asked. His partner shrugged.

“Boss, you could call me anything in the world, I’d still come running.” 

His heart jumps to his throat at that. Neither of them say anything for a short while, getting lost in the stars, lost in thought. MacCready moved one arm, the one closer to Dick, from under his head so he could place it on his chest, toying with the fabric there.

“I used to be Jackson Lucas Ryder.” The name fizzes on his tongue, like pop-rock candy. MacCready is looking at him now, but he focuses on the moon. “Jackloo, Nora would call me. All sweet, like that. ‘Jacklew,’” he singsonged, in her voice, a shadow of a mockery of a time past, her call when he passed by in the hallways, from bed when she wanted him to bring her something, from the shower that was too big for her to be alone in. “Dick Ryder was just a joke the squad couldn’t pass up, but it kind of stuck. New guys would hear people call me Dick, and no one would correct them.” His throat was burning, constricted with emotion. “Jackson Lucas Ryder was a man who loved his wife, worshipped his dog, and threw himself into his work. He liked comic books and hiking, and his coffee brewed extra hot. He was scared of wasps, couldn’t cook eggs, and liked garden salads.” For the third time since leaving the vault, he felt tears burning at the back of his eyes, but still they didn’t fall. Dimly, he became aware of their arms just barely touching. He doesn’t move. “Jackson died in that vault. Now there’s just Dick.”

MacCready watches him for a moment. Then, quietly: “I like Dick just fine. If losing Jackson meant I got to meet you… I don’t think I can say it wasn’t worth it.” 

He’s charmed, completely, when he pulls himself back from the stars to lose himself in hopeful blue. MacCready is a mercenary, out for blood and caps, but RJ is hopeful, earnest, and terrified of being alone. “Thanks, RJ.” 

The mercenary settles back, looking to the sky again. “Dick? Will you tell me about her? About Nora?”

Where to begin? “Well, I met her one day on leave. I had just ordered my coffee from a little shop and was sitting down to drink it when the Mr. Handy started arguing with the barista. It was scolding her for her coffee because it was brewed to 185 degrees, when it was supposed to be 186.5. She told him to go rust in a NukaBucks. That made me laugh, and she looked over and saw me. She stormed over, huffing about how they’d just gotten these stupid robots and they were totally annoying. And she ranted and raved for a while, like twenty minutes, before she stopped, and she kinda looked at me, right? And I looked at her, because I hadn’t said anything yet, just letting her get it out, you know? And she said, ‘Oh my God, I don’t even know your name.’” The memory made him smile. “She buried her face in her hands, totally red, and I just told her I could listen to her all day. I’d figured she’d been having a rough week, you know, and just needed someone to vent to.” MacCready is transfixed. “She told me she was trying to become a lawyer, but needed income, so she worked here at this shop. So every time I went on leave, I visited that shop and she’d sit and talk to me, ask about the air force, whine about school. We got married when I was 27. It took a while, but I wanted to wait until she had gotten her degree. I didn’t want to get in the way of her dreams.

“So we got married, and she used to tell people I loved my dog more than her. I had a samoyed. His name was Ruckus. Because he was always howling, and barking, and crashing into things. More energy than I ever had in a lifetime, that dog. She knew, though, not to get between us. He was always my first love. The three of us, we’d go to the park, and he’d eat the scraps of the food we brought. She looked so beautiful, throwing him the ball, laughing at him when he would plow through other dogs and people to get to it. She’d tie her hair up.” He sighed heavily. “She used to tell me she wanted a son. And I’d tell her no. I was so scared of failing, of not being good enough. I couldn’t have a kid, you know? It took her years to convince me. I did it for her. She wanted a baby so _badly,_ and I was doomed from the start, you know? And when she told me she was pregnant…” He shook his head. “Ruckus died. I had never been so heartbroken in my life. I was depressed. I couldn’t even get out of bed. It took two weeks, but she told me she was pregnant, so I got up, and every day I dedicated to make sure she was okay. She had already picked out his name. She knew it was a boy the day she was pregnant. I don’t know how. She’d say, ‘ _Our son is doing well,’_ and, ‘ _That’s our little boy, I just know it.’_ And when he was born… God, I wish I could say I was proud. But I just felt dread. I wasn’t good enough for this little boy. And when the bombs fell, Codsworth, he… ‘A boy needs his father’s love.’ And I went in there and just stared at him. And I thought, ‘ _God,_ how long can I keep up this charade? How long can I pretend that I’ll be good enough?’ It always felt like failure was right around the corner. I guess… I didn’t know how true it was. And now… I wonder, you know, if I’d said no, would I still be here? Would Nora still be alive? Would he have died in the Vault, like everyone else? And the closer I get to finding him… the more terrified I am.”

Dick closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. Part of him felt guilty for dumping like that, but a gentle hand gripped his forearm, his thumb brushing against his skin comfortingly. “She sounded wonderful, Dick. You couldn’t have known. And we’re going to find Shaun. You’ve already gone so far, you’re a great father. You stuck your neck out for  _ my  _ kid. I can only imagine what you’ll do for yours.”

“Thanks, Mac. The problem is, I still don’t know if I  _ want  _ to find Shaun. I’m doing it because she fought so hard to save him, and in the end, she was shot for it. I have to do it, for her.”

“Whatever you do, boss, I’ll be by your side and support you.” 

They said little else that night, falling asleep like that, side by side, both holding back nameless emotions. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reunions.

They continue on, but they stop at Diamond City. Dick needed a breather, and a shot of moonshine. Walking into the Dugout Inn felt like coming home; Vadim raised a cheer of delight to see the wanderer again. It had been quite some time, and he would readily admit to missing the bartender and his brother. He was shocked to hear MacCready sounded  _ actually happy  _ to be here. 

“I  _ love  _ this place! Vadim is a character. Vadim! Still killing people with that moonshine?” 

“MacCready!! Is so good to see you, tovarisch. How is Lucy? Still as beautiful as I remember?

Dick eyed his partner carefully. But he was smooth as silk. “Sorry, Vadim. She didn’t make it.”

“Ah! So sorry. Mouth tend to move faster than brain. Tell you what, I give you a drink on the house, for old time sake.”

“Thanks. You were always a standup guy, Vadim. Let’s drink.” The Bobrovs chatted with him for a while, Yefim even invested in his story. He didn’t share much; it was getting too personal, but he told them about the Minutemen, how the Castle looked proper and rebuilt now, fighting monsters of the Commonwealth of all kinds. Eventually, he quieted, letting MacCready go over crazy stories, sometimes exaggerating for the small audience he had. As Vadim called out for shots, Dick leaned over to MacCready, speaking into his ear so only he would hear. It’s such a familiar motion, that he has to remind himself that he isn’t inviting the man back to his room. Somehow, this feels more… intimate.

“I’m gonna duck out. Gotta meet someone. Stay here, have a good night. I paid off your room already.” Mac eyed him for a minute, but nodded. He understood, the General was a busy man. 

Out in the night sky, he breathed a sigh of relief. He loved the Bobrovs, loved the Dugout, and loved the company, but he had been burdened all night by the radio being drowned out by the customers. He hopped over to the radio station, knocking twice. This time, no voice came, but the door opened a crack and a single eye peered out. Upon recognition, Travis swung the door open enough to drag him in by his chest plate, shutting the door behind him. 

“Dick! You- you, ah-” He coughed, his hands shaking. “Do you still want… I mean, like, with me, do y-” 

“Yes, Travis,” he assured softly, and that was his only warning before the DJ threw himself at him, kissing him firmly. Dick wrapped an arm around his waist, sighing softly into his mouth. It always gave him a feeling of a hard reset; rebooting and coming back to square one when his thoughts became too much to handle. 

Travis struggles to break off, to say something, but it takes him a while as Dick just won’t let him go. Finally he does, shaking his head, trying to clear his mind. 

“Are you okay? I’ve been worried about you. I keep getting-getting reports, reports, reports, but I never see you, and each one is scarier than the last, and I’m so worried one of these days it’ll be the report that the wanderer died, and it’ll just be a report and I’ll never see you again.”

Dick lets the boy lead him to the bed and sits, cradling him when he slides into his lap. Tonight, there is no sexual tension, no aching need to fulfill, and this position gives a vibe of comfort and closeness. So he supports him, crossing his arms behind his lower back so he has a strong place to bear his weight. Despite it all; the stress of Shaun, of the Institute, the weird emotions he couldn’t quite place (well, he could, but lord knew he didn’t want to) for both MacCready  _ and  _ Preston, he couldn’t give this up. He felt unstable often out in the wasteland, but when he had to be strong for Travis, it made him feel needed, even sane for a moment. Maybe Travis’ erratic nervousness linked into his and settled them both, cancelling out like double negatives. He’d never know. He kissed his throat gently, just once. “I know, Trav. It’s hard out there. But I can’t go dying on you, can I? I promise I’ll come here and tell you when I plan on dying,” he joked. Travis laughed awkwardly.

“I-I guess. I just don’t want to lose you. You’re my, my only- err, my best friend,” the correction makes Dick smile. “Are you though? Okay, I mean?”

Dick brushes scruffy brown bangs from Travis’ face. “I’m getting by.” Travis is feeling a little braver, because he kisses his forehead, and down the side of his face to his jaw. “I’m just glad I get to see you again before all hell breaks loose.” 

Travis presses their foreheads together, letting out a shaky sigh. Dick thinks of MacCready, how differently he felt. “You ah… you look… really good. In the uniform.” Dick realizes that after visiting so many times, he’s never actually come to Travis’ place in the General’s outfit. They don’t speak for a while, Travis burying his face in the wanderer’s neck, who stroked a broad hand up and down his back soothingly. The only sound was the radio, which was just playing through songs with no announcements or introductions. 

“S-so, Dick… I was uh… Well, well I was thinking…” Dick regards him patiently while he pulls away, trying to get his thoughts together. “There’s this guy, right? At Goodneighbor… He- His name is Kent, and I was kinda thinking, you know, maybe I could like, I dunno… ask him… sometime... o-on a date?”

Dick’s shock is overridden by a huge, toothy grin. “Aww, Travis! How do you know Kent?”

Travis looks surprised, but his entire face is red. “W-well, he runs that radio, and sometimes I listen to it… and one day I heard him talking about you, when you were the Silver Shroud? So I called out over the radio, you know, to ask him to tune into the shortwave frequency and I asked him for the news report on you. But then we started talking on shortwave, and it’s every night, and… I don’t know. I think I really like him.” He is completely flustered, embarrassed and trying to hide his face. Dick’s grin broadens.

“I think you two would be great together. Kent is an amazing guy. He’d be perfect for you.” A thought occurs to him, and he cups the boy’s cheek, making him look him in the eye. He strokes his thumb just once, when he feels him lean into the touch, but Dick’s smile falls. “Travis, I don’t want there to be any surprises, here. I don’t want either of you to get hurt, but you… well, you kinda live in Diamond City. You know Kent is a ghoul, right?” 

Travis eyes him for a second and nods. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t stop thinking about him, Dick. I’ve never felt so comfortable with anyone before. Well, b-besides, uh…” He gestured between them. “I think you kinda gave me the confidence to ask him, you know? I mean, if you want me, I can’t be that bad… and you’re, ah, really great? And you do all this stuff and make it look so easy, and I just… if I could pretend, for a second, I could be more like you, then Kent might like me, you know?”

Dick moves his hand to the back of his head, scruffing his shaggy hair softly. “He’s going to love you, T.” 

He spent the night cradling the DJ, listening to him go on about endless nights of talking to Kent, sharing their stories, falling in love. He wondered, distantly, if he would ever sound the same.

He rose too early, the trailer letting only a tiny amount of bare hints of light through its little window. He shifted, sitting up to dress, to find MacCready. As he was lacing his boots, a hand tugged the fabric at the small of his back. He looked over his shoulder to Travis, hopeful and full of emotions that weren’t quite love, never would be, but bared a bond they shared: nameless, but important for both of their growth and recovery. Travis leaned up, straining just so to reach, catching him in a lingering kiss, soft, muted. He pulled back, running his hand across the wanderer’s hip. 

“In case I don’t get to again,” he murmured, a soft smile on his face. Dick returns it, lets himself be selfish as he takes just one more kiss. Either Travis hoped things would work out with Kent, or he knew Dick might not survive the next chapters of his story. Lingering on it would only break them, so they enjoyed it, one soft ‘Thank you’ reaching his ears as Dick closed the door behind himself and stepped into the cool morning air. 

Feeling mentally restabilized, Dick sat on a bench on the outskirts of town. He thumbed the radio strapped to his chest, lost in thought. Feeling a surge of bravery, he flicked the switch.

“Preston? Are you awake?”

He shouldn’t be. The sun is barely up yet; his Pip-Boy tells him it’s only just five am. A few minutes pass before he hears a quiet, “ _ Yes, General.”  _

His heart thuds once in his chest. “You should be sleeping,” he scolds, a tiny smile toying on his lips. 

_ “I could say the same for you _ ,” comes the quick reply. He can hear the smile in his voice. 

Dick leans forward, one hand supporting his forehead, the other holding his radio to his mouth. “I was thinking about you last night,” he admits. “I just… I guess I miss you.” He realizes it  _ after  _ he says it. It’s true, he misses nights sitting by his side, talking about strategy or settlements or just life in general. He misses looking up in time to see Preston looking away, misses the brush of their shoulders when they pass in the hallway. Watching him rebuilding houses or tending to crops. Drinking in the late of the night, watching the way his muscles gained an easy looseness and the languid smile he’d have. Catching him reading Dick’s Silver Shroud comics, laughing when he’d blush and reassuring him he wouldn’t tell anyone. With Preston, Dick felt like he was waiting, waiting, always waiting, and he wasn’t sure what for. 

There’s a beat of silence as Preston processes. He liked that, how the man always had to process everything. _ “...I miss you, too. Will you be home soon?”  _

Dick’s heart lands in Sanctuary. “A few days.”

_ “I’ll be waiting for you.” _

As the communication is cut off, he tightens his grip around the radio. He’s never been so wrapped around someone’s finger before Preston. Although, he considers the way one simple pleading look from MacCready’s goddamned blue eyes knocks him to his knees. He felt torn apart, completely, uncertain. On one hand, there was Nora. He hadn’t even found  _ Shaun  _ yet. Was it even enough time to consider moving on? And all of this… He didn’t even know if it was romantic, what he was feeling. A part of Dick just kept telling him that it was proximity effect in action; he and MacCready never separated for more than a few  _ hours  _ and he and Preston had to work very closely as Lieutenant and General. A smaller, quieter part of him hoped it was something real. But with which one? It wasn’t possible to  _ really  _ love two people at once… right?

Growling, he pressed the radio to his head. It was all too much. The only option to save his sanity was to shelve it until after… everything. After Shaun. It wasn’t until the last streaks of yellow had left the sky before he stood, hands in his pockets as he slowly walked towards the Dugout Inn. 

“Ahhh, we are finally get to see local celebrity. Good morning sunshine,” Vadim booms, teasing him across the empty bar. 

“Any morning I get to wake up to that beautiful face of yours is a good morning, Vadim,” he replies smoothly, sliding into a seat. The bartender laughs, cleaning the glasses from last night. 

“You will not be staying long, yes? Very busy, Mr. General.”

Dick accepts the bottle of water, tossing down a few caps. “We’ll leave when MacCready gets up, yeah. Got lots to do.”

“Well, guess I’d better go back to bed then, huh?” They both look up to see MacCready padding closer from his bedroom, smoothing his hair out before he tugged his hat on. 

“Not without me, you’re not,” he grumbles, and nearly groans when he realizes how suggestive it sounds. Not helping. MacCready raised a brow.

“Oh, is that an offer or a command, boss?” He replied cheekily. Dick rolled his eyes, too frustrated with himself to rise to the bait, too scared of what he’ll say if he opens his mouth. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> before the storm.

Stepping into Sanctuary’s borders came with a breath of relief. Being home always felt him more at ease, and damnit if he didn’t want to just curl up in bed and hide. He and MacCready head to the workshop, unloading the supplies they’d picked up on the road. 

“Mac… I’m gonna go debrief Preston. We’ll meet up later, okay?” He asked, essentially dismissing his companion. He earned a break anyway; no doubt he’d go right to his bed and take a nap. Dick wished so badly he could join him, instead watching him run off before clicking on the radio.

“Preston?”

_ “I’m here, General.”  _

“So am I.”

A beat. _ “Where?”  _

“Workshop.”

He gets no response after that, but shortly after he sees the Lieutenant appear from one of the houses in the Cul De Sac. He tries to restrain himself from just running over to him. 

“Hey, General,” Preston says, smooth as glass, like Dick hasn’t been aching to see him for over a week. “Can we go talk privately?” 

It’s their public excuse, just in case someone is listening, for them to go hide in his house. So Dick leads them to his home, shutting and locking the doors. Finally, Dick sighs, letting out the tension in his body as he sunk onto the couch, most of his back fully on the seat, nearly parallel to the cushions. Preston sat next to him, the wanderer hyper-aware of their legs touching. He doesn’t even let the Lieutenant open his mouth.

“I know. I need a break.”

“You do. You look  _ terrible.” _

He peers up at him, at the concerned look on his face. He wanted to drag him down by that fucking scarf and just  _ kiss him.  _ But he couldn’t.  _ Shouldn’t.  _

“Someday you’re going to look at me with a different expression,” he chided, a half-smile on his face. 

“Someday you may listen to me,” the lieutenant replied, reaching over to smooth out the lapel of his officer’s coat. He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Better days are coming, General. I really think they are.” 

“God, Garvey, I hope you’re right.” He closed his eyes, trying to collect himself as he retold everything that had happened since they last met. Preston listened without interrupting, just watching him as he recounted every step until now. He was awed by the Institute’s teleportation, but otherwise let Dick talk. 

“I think Sturges could help you, really. I haven’t found anything yet he couldn’t build or fix.”

Dick considered his friend, the greaser with a knack for building. Yeah, maybe. “Yeah. I’ll go talk to him.” 

He went to stand, but a firm hand pressed on his chest, keeping him down. “Hell, no, General. You need to sleep. It can wait.”

Dick squirms under him, frustrated. “Preston-”

“ _ No,  _ Dick. It’s ten-thirty at night. Whatever it is can  _ wait.  _ Kellogg,  _ himself  _ told you Shaun was safe. Yes, he’s in the Institute, but he’s  _ safe.  _ He can wait a few more hours.”

Damnit, he’s right. As usual. Preston takes his hand off his chest when he’s satisfied his friend isn’t going anywhere. Dick hates himself for missing the little contact they had, for wanting more. He was tired. Couldn’t think straight. That was all.

Crawling into bed an hour later nearly made him cry. Dogmeat, springing onto the bed, the cats surrounding him happily. Maybe someday he could just  _ enjoy  _ this, lie here without worrying about the next day. He buried his face in the tuxedo cat’s fur, memorizing the softness, its warmth, and fell asleep just like that.

Morning came too soon, with a grogginess that made his breathing feel heavy and his head hurt, his body still covered in sweat from nightmares. But try as he might, he couldn’t fall back to sleep. Frustrated, he tossed the covers off of himself, disturbing the furballs as little as possible, padding to the kitchen. He turned on his Pip-Boy’s backlight, watching his status come back into view. He still couldn’t get used to seeing his own health just displayed like that; that was it. His life, displayed as a little purple bar. He thought it should be a lot lower, honestly, with all the damn problems he was having. 

He ate breakfast slowly, methodically, going over the plans for the relay. Over and over. He could figure out some of it, but there were other parts he was a little uncertain on, and he knew for  _ sure  _ he didn’t have the dexterity to actually build it. During that time, MacCready padded out of his room. He looked cute, all sleep-mussed. The mercenary sat across from him, rubbing his face.

“Why are you up so early?” Dick asked, watching him steal a piece of steak off his plate. It awed him, how comfortable they had become; that he was okay with someone taking his food, that  _ he  _ was comfortable enough to take it, without asking, that it felt like the most normal thing in the world to just do things like that. 

“Routine, with you,” he said with a shrug. Dick peered down at his wrist, where the Pip-Boy did display it was nearly seven, where they’d normally be on the road by now in their travels. He wondered how long MacCready had laid in bed before coming out, if they woke up together. (He’d like to wake up together.)

“Your beard is getting scruffy.” 

MacCready rubs a hand on his goatee, feels the fuzz growing in thicker around it. “So is yours,” he retaliates, though he scratches the hair leading to his sideburns. 

“My beard is  _ always  _ scruffy,” he reminds him, pointing his fork to the man for emphasis.

“ _ Shaggy, _ ” MacCready corrects, and Dick feigns shock and insult, making him chuckle. “I’ll probably shave after breakfast.

“ _ My  _ breakfast, or yours?” Dick accuses. MacCready grabs another piece of steak off his plate and winks as he pops it in his mouth with a grin. The wanderer rolled his eyes as he stood, watching him mosey to the bathroom like he  _ knew  _ Dick was watching. Rising to his feet, he offered the scraps to Dog, who was sitting at his feet, and went to wash off his plate. 

“Shit, Dick. This is some complicated noise ya got here,” Sturges said with a low whistle. Dick wrung his hands together, trying to steady them. “We’ll get started right away, brother. We can get done tomorrow at the latest if we keep breaks to a minimum.” He wondered if they would work faster if his hands weren’t shot. Instead, he called Preston over the radio, telling him to bring some extra hands. They gather by the bridge, where a wrecked home had once stood, now levelled with just concrete foundation. Good a place as any to build mad-scientist machinery. 

While the settlers started working on the pieces, Dick connected his terminal to the console, settling in to start coding and rewiring and connecting them all together. As each one was finished, he would start the programming for them to communicate. It was late at night when they had to break, leaving only minor adjustments for the next day. 

 

Dick sat at the terminal for a long, long time. Reading the signal interceptor’s code. Checking coordinates. Retyping programming. Perfecting, over and over, until his eyes could barely focus on the image in front of him.

“Dick.”

“Jesus,  _ fuck!”  _ He yelped, jumping at the hand that landed on his shoulder. He turned around in his chair to see MacCready, looking almost… sad. He scowled. “Don’t tell me to go to bed, or take a break, or leave it for tomorrow. I don’t wanna hear it.” He knows he’s lashing out, but the stress of  _ all  _ of this, not to mention the looming sense of doom on the horizon that would bring finding Shaun - hopefully - with the sunrise, is too much. He could feel Nora’s shadow hovering over him from the Vault he could  _ just  _ see the entrance to from here, grasping at him, clutching with shadowy claws in an attempt to join him as he would jump through the relay to her son. 

“I just wanted to keep you company,” MacCready states, without venom. Dick slumped, shoulders heavy as he buried his face in his hands, scrubbing. A hand rubs his back soothingly, only the thin cotton of his T-shirt separating their skin. A ragged sigh burned his lungs as he dropped his hands, staring down at the console. 

“What are you thinking?” He figures, maybe if he can get a read on MacCready, hear what he’s thinking, he can block out the horror fest in his head, for just a minute. The mercenary scratched his nails gently down the length of his back, then back up, just looking at him for a moment.

“Just… about you, I guess.” Dick decided he  _ really  _ liked the sound of that. He looked towards MacCready, though didn’t lift his head, so all he accomplished was looking at his feet. But he was invested, and obviously so. “How hopeless I was when you walked through the door. Especially since you’d just seen two  _ obvious Gunners  _ walk out. I had my ass handed to me when I went to Med-Tek the first three times. I had no caps. Hell, I didn’t even know if my son was still alive. All I’d wanted, then, was to just have died with Lucy. And now I had to follow you around, some lunatic with a sword who  _ I thought  _ didn’t need me, who wouldn’t tell me what we were doing. Maybe I hoped you’d kill me. Or get me killed. And then… I guess I started to see it. How you’d look to me when you couldn’t see something or trusted me when I pointed something out without question. Or the way you made sure I got the caps at the end of the day. Or you’d pull some dumb shit cause you knew I’d shoot the guy for you.”

Dick cannot refute anything he’s said, so far. He shifts closer to the sniper, who he feels leans towards him, just a degree. 

“And… Winlock and Barnes, they were kind of a test, I guess. I mean, I  _ really  _ needed it, but when I asked you… I didn’t expect you to do it. But not only did you help me, but we literally just… dropped everything and went there right away. And that kind of solidified it for me, that you really did care about me. And I think, that was when I kinda told myself, you know? Like, no matter what, I was gonna stick by you.” 

MacCready’s hand had long since stopped moving, and now was just resting on the further shoulder blade, almost as if reaching to hug him, but not quite. The wanderer swallowed his pride, leaning over to close the distance between them, resting his head on his partner’s shoulder. Unexpectedly, he didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t even stiffen up. He just slid his arm all the way around to his side like it was the most natural thing in the world, turning to rest his chin on the fluff of the Vault Dweller’s hair. ‘ _ Lending me your shoulder like Lucy did. The courage to press ahead.’ _

“And I’m still here, you know? I know you’re going through hell, but you’re not alone. I’d say you’re my friend, but it just doesn’t… feel strong enough? Sometimes I think we can just talk without words, like you can just read my mind with a look. And sometimes, it feels like I just  _ know  _ what you’re gonna do. You’re my partner.” 

Dick is scared to look up. He doesn’t want to face him, to look into the unreal blue of his eyes, doesn’t want to risk falling in love. “I can’t imagine another person at my side all this time,” he said quietly. MacCready rubs his upper arm briefly.

“You don’t have to. You don’t ever have to.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> father.

His sleep that night is restless. He has maybe three hours to sleep, after they go to their separate rooms, perhaps with a terrifying unwillingness, so he laid in bed surrounded by his beloved pets and stared at the ceiling. He drifted in and out of consciousness, never falling completely asleep but never wide awake, either. He didn’t remember the sun rising, but he remembered drifting between blackness, pale blue, yellow, orange, pink, lavender, then bright blue. He rolled over, slinging an arm over Dog and holding him closer. The shepherd just thumped his tail once, sleepily. He stared at the opposite wall, at the painting of the horses grazing by a barn. He hears the knock at his door, doesn’t respond. 

“Dick? Listen, man, I’m done. And I ran what tests I could. It’s ready, when you are.” Sturges’ voice comes through the door. He heard him stomp off in that clunky way of walking of his. It was time, more than time. He should be jumping out of bed. Instead, he just laid there, staring at the painting, holding his dog closer. 

Finally, he gets up, turning the Pip-Boy’s backlight on. It’s still early morning, almost eight. Sturges must’ve gotten up early to work. He gets dressed in his General’s outfit. He looked in his mirror, considering himself. He had a lot of bulk; between his already tall and broader built, he had even  _ more  _ muscle than before the war, which he didn’t know was possible. Pararescue prepared one physically for everything, but this still had honed him in strength. He eyed the scars on his face, all the prominent deathclaw ones, a newer one across his left temple from the butt of a Super Mutant’s gun, another one parallel to the deathclaw’s mark on his cheek from a raider’s knife. Looked at the clean-cut stripes in his hair, the colorless gray of his eyes. Dick wasn’t sure he recognized himself; he looked hardened, steely. Jackson may have been a man of war, but Dick  _ lived  _ war. He was the General, now. Maybe, deep down, he always had been, and just needed the excuse to let it out. Holding himself a little straighter, he watched himself emit a presence of stable impenetrability. Hopefully whoever was holding Shaun would back down from this alone, but he was ready to kill. 

He headed to the construction site where Sturges was tinkering. 

“Hey, hotrod. Damn, you look like you mean business.” 

The general shifts his bandoleer. “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

“Well, these Institute bastards won’t know what hit them. Take this holotape - when you get in, run it on any terminal. It’s a network scanner. Bring it back to me, and we’ll get a lot of data on these guys.”

Dick accepted the holotape, pressing it into one of his inner pockets. He touched his breast pocket, just checking for the familiar lump of the carved soldier. 

“General?” Preston was jogging over to them, MacCready right on his heels. “We saw you guys over here, are you going already?”

Dick looks at the two of them, so full of concern and emotion. He’s never sat and really looked at the two of them together, and he’s nearly overcome by the urge to drag them in and kiss them - in any order, any way. He pushes the thought away.  _ Far  _ away. 

“We’re ready, General,” Sturges reminds him softly. He sighed, taking a step towards the teleporter. Shaun was on the other side, waiting. So many months of hunting, chasing, fighting, killing, all leading up to this. He felt… unprepared. 

“Dick, wait.” The man is surprised to hear Preston use his name. He turns around to face him, and not a moment after the Lieutenant throws his arms around his neck. Dick clutches him tightly, burying his face in his scarf, inhaling deeply. He was so steady, so warm. Definitely taller and not as skinny as MacCready, more of a developed type of muscle. Why was it in the face of the unknown that he finally had the courage to just  _ hug him? _

He finally lets go, and Dick can see the unshed emotion in his eyes, under the mask of his face. “Come back safe, General, please.”

He can’t trust himself to speak, only nods. Preston steps back to MacCready, but the sniper comes up to him, fixing his lapels. “Are you sure I can’t come with you? You’re hopeless without me,” he breathes, trying clearly to hide under humor. 

“I can’t risk it. And the interceptor…” 

“I know.” MacCready looks torn, finally hugs him. He’s all sinewy and lean, too skinny for Dick’s tastes. Once all this is over, maybe he can get the man to gain some weight. It’s becoming too familiar, being held like this, by him. He finally lets go, though he looks like he  _ actually  _ may cry. Dick steps onto the platform, looking to Sturges. The man nods, starting up the console’s commands. The General pulls out the wooden soldier, locking eyes with MacCready as he held it tight in his hands, watching the mercenary’s mouth open in surprise. Flashes of light, electricity surround him, he can feel the energy in the air like charged particles. He keeps his eyes on the two men he couldn’t bear to leave behind, watching as MacCready tried to jump forward, Preston holding him back as a tube came loose. It was only a second later that he felt his body get jerked into the emptiness of space.

Another second, and he was standing in a small room. He gasped for air, fingers clutched too-tight around the poor soldier. He took a second to gain his breathing, tucking the toy in his pocket again and stepping into the room.

It was all too-polished. No post-war rust, grime, dirt. Just clean, hospital-sterile. His eyes landed on a console, and he dug into his other pocket for the holotape, quickly running its programming and ejecting it, tucking it safely away.

He started down the stairs when a voice stopped him.

“Hello.” He looks up to the intercoms on the ceiling, listening to him introduce himself. He pressed the elevator call button at the stranger’s prompting.  _ ‘Father’  _ replays in his mind like a haunting taunt. A reminder of what he  _ should  _ be, what he was  _ supposed  _ to be, why he was here, what he failed at. 

“I can only imagine what the outside world has made you think of us. I’d like to show you that you may have the wrong impression.” He is welcomed to too-bright lights, to scientists walking briskly back and forth, to synths being escorted by lab-coats. Father continues explaining himself, but Dick can only think of finding Shaun. The elevator lands, and down another long hallway he walks, listening to Father continue on about how they were too advanced, too far ahead for the rabble of the above-ground to handle. 

“I’d like to talk to you about what we can do for everyone. But that can wait. You are here for a very specific, very personal reason. You are here for your son.” The elevator doors open, and Dick steps into a room.

He’s there. In a glass case, like an animal. An  _ animal,  _ his ten-year-old boy. He walks up to the oblivious boy behind the glass, pressing a hand against its cold exterior. “...Shaun…” 

“Huh? Yes, I’m Shaun,” the boy says, turning to face him. His nose. Her eyes. His hair. Her dimples. Here, in front of him, not a baby, but a boy. 

“Shaun… it…. It’s really you,” he breathes, and his throat constricts. So long, so long he’d been hunting.

“Who… who are you?”

“Where is everyone? Why are you locked up here?” He looked for a way out, besides the locked door. 

“Father? What’s going on? What’s happening?”

Dick’s heart was pounding in his chest. “Don’t- don’t worry, I’ll, I’ll get you out. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“I don’t know you! Go away! Help! Father!”

“Shaun. S9-23 Recall Code Cirrus.” Dick stared in horror as the boy seemed to short-circuit and collapse. As if he were a…

A…

“Fascinating, but disappointing. The child’s responses were not at all what I was expecting. You’ll have to understand, he  _ is  _ a prototype. Please, try to keep an open mind. Let us start anew. I am Father, director of the Institute.”

Dick is still staring at the synth child. He had no idea they could create children. And to make a replica of his son… meaning the real one was still out there. He finally tore his gaze away to look at the old man in the doorway. Father stepped closer, and Dick clenched his fists, ready to fight. 

It was the nose, that stopped him first. His fingers weakly uncurled as he stared back into a warped mirror; looked at his own nose. At his cheekbones, his wife’s eyes. Her dimples that ghosted in when he spoke. 

“Father. That’s your name? Your title?” They’re mocking him. They have to be. They have to…

He explained himself, but not well enough. Dick was getting frustrated; first a little boy that looked like his son, now this elderly man? Were they just going to send in an entire fucking  _ army  _ of synth lookalikes?

“God…  All we need is- is the white rabbit, and the teacups…” He exhaled, unstable.

“Good, a sense of humor means you adapt quickly to stressful situations. I need you to understand this situation is far more complicated than you could have ever imagined…  _ General.”  _ He steepled his fingers together. “You’ve traveled very far, suffered a great deal, just to find your son. Well… your tenacity, your endeavors… have all been rewarded. It is good to finally meet you after all this time.” He pressed a hand to his own chest. “It’s me. I am Shaun. I am your son.” 

Dick can’t breathe. His heart has stopped in his chest. Finally, after all this time. Here was his son, in front of him. His journey, all that he had done, led to this moment, this very tile in this room, face to face with a man twice his age, his child. “It’s… really you… after all this…”

“I know it’s a lot to take in. In the Vault, you had no concept of time. You were released and went searching for the son you lost.” He continued on.  Every word made sense, of course. They were both men of science, and he truly could believe that it had been not ten, but sixty years that had passed. 

“It… wasn’t right, what they did. Taking you from her. From us.” 

Ah, but Shaun disagreed, as the Institute had trained him. He went on to explain their endeavors, how they played their key role, how  _ he  _ had become everything the Institute needed, from the base of all synths to the director today. 

He is in shock. “Sixty years… all this time…  _ wasted…” _

“I know.” Shaun is at least sympathetic. “Please, allow me to ease your mind with any questions you may have.”

Dick only can think of Nora, standing here today. Would she hug him? Would she care he was sixty? Would she still see the baby boy she always wanted? What about the synth?

“Your mother… she never got to see you grow up,” he breathed. Then again, he didn’t, either. 

He seemed at least remorseful. “Yes. I went over the case files, of course. It seems she was a bit of… unnecessary collateral damage.”

Dick can feel tears burning in his eyes at the image of Nora, gunned down like a hunted animal. “Collateral damage?! Is that all she was to you?!” He barks, enraged.

“I… forgive me. I was just a baby, and have had a lifetime to cope. I forget that it has been only a short time for you. To me, it was nothing, but to you… your life.” 

He shakes his head. “What… now?” He can’t manage much more. He has a million questions, and none will bring back sixty years. 

Shaun steepled his fingers, thinking. He let him know about the central government, about how the Institute was only for itself now. “There’s more to discuss, but… We are on the verge of breakthroughs. You, too, are a man of science. We could use you here.” He told him of their advances, of his glorious life underground. “Does this not intrigue you? Is it not what you want?” 

Dick looks at his son. Sees his wife, sees her arguing in a Nuka Bucks. Sees her throwing the ball to Ruckus. Sees her sneaking sips of his coffee. Twirling in her sun dress in the park. Walking down the aisle. Holding their son. 

Their son, director of the Institute. He sees the advancements in science, sees their struggle to become more, to follow the path that science always paves, one never-ending. Sees them not surviving, but  _ thriving.  _ Sees his son, standing in front of him, after  _ months  _ of tireless hunting. 

And then he sees the Minutemen. Sees the Castle, in rubble, infested. Sees it rebuilt in its glory, the sounds of violin over the radio. Sees minutemen roaming the commonwealth, ready to serve. Rising up, like a glorified phoenix, magnificent and burning with a fiery vengeance from its terrible ashes. 

And then… he sees Preston, smiling boyishly as he breathes a ‘welcome home, General.’ He sees MacCready, staring up at him with hopeless blue eyes as he fixes his collar. He sees Dogmeat, wagging his tail as he bounded ahead on one of their hiking trails. All the good things in his life that he’d found again.

“...No. I won’t be a part of this. I can’t.” To give it all up... He had worked so hard to find Shaun, and now that he had, he felt cheated. It wasn’t fair. And to reward the very company that stole his wife, his son, his future away… he couldn’t do it, even if it meant to give up Shaun.

“Why?” It’s bitter. It’s venomous. “Because of our reputation? Surely you must see the mutual benefit here. The commonwealth is a terrible place. And the people you align yourself with? I  _ urge  _ you to consider my offer. We can work together. We will be together, like you  _ wanted _ .”

He is lost. “Are you sure you want this?”

 

“I am. We would benefit of working together.”

 

Work. Work, work. Dick feels the bubbling of anguish and rage being buried underneath a cold numbness, cold as the metal on his general’s outfit’s plate. Shaun is seeing only a chance to work together, to rip away the emblem on the Minuteman’s chest and cover it in an Institute lab coat. He does not see his father. He sees an asset. This is his son only by blood, but in no other way. Dick gathers up the General inside him, pushing down Jackson Ryder, father of Shaun Ryder, husband to Nora Lakeland-Ryder, and tilts his chin up, drawing his back straighter to his full height, just a few inches taller than his enemy.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do that.” Shaun must register the ice, because he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I had hoped we could work together, but every man must make his own decisions and I cannot force you to stay. Understand, though, that I cannot allow you to stay in the Institute.” He holds up a placating hand, and that angers Dick more. He could break this man in half, and he acts as if he is in control. But Dick is already forming a plan. “You will be allowed safe passage to the lift to take you to the relay, but after… you must be considered hostile.” Dick makes certain to allow no emotion pass his face. “I am sorry, but the Institute’s safety must be my top priority. And those who are not with us are against us. The elevator will take you to the relay.”

He takes one last look into his enemy’s eyes - his wife’s eyes - and wishes he could feel pleased that the director looks down and away after a moment, yielding. The general turns on heel, remembering every sharp step down the pristine halls, feels every clench of every muscle as he rises on the lift, is hyper aware of the worrying steadiness of his breathing. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vault 111. maccready worries.

The rush back to the CIT ruins is dizzying. He checks his map, to see where he is. He has a long walk alone, and every step he rationalizes, rethinks, replans. 

 

He hears the call from the lookout post as he crosses the hill. “Here comes the General!”

Sturges is waiting at the teleporter, and rises to his feet when he sees him. Dick shoves the holotape in his hands. “Find out  _ everything.  _ Their strengths, their weaknesses. Find a way to attack. Whatever it takes.”

Sturges stutters for a second. He nods, explaining he will have to work through a lot of information, and most will be encrypted. He’s never seen Dick lose his composure to the point of  _ gaining  _ it. 

Dick’s feet move without him, and he finds himself standing on the lowering platform to the Vault. It landed with a loud ‘ _ clunk,’ _ and he walked slowly up the ramp. The last time he did this… He still heard the screams, the horrified shouts of, ‘ _ Send it down!’,  _ the sobbing of his neighbors, the shushing of Nora to Sh- the baby. He could still feel the heat wave rolling over him like a crashing tide. Every step into the Vault got heavier, until he was back in his own chamber’s room. He stared down, to his open pod, slowly walking towards it.

He stood, staring, at her closed pod. He wanted to say something, but there was nothing to say. Would she forgive him for leaving him behind? Would she hate him for abandoning the son he had searched for for  _ so long,  _ only to stand up for a group of strangers he’d only just banded together under some twisted sense of Commonwealth justice? Would she have done the same?

* * *

 

He hasn’t moved. MacCready is beyond worried, but he knows Garvey has been doing enough worrying for both of them. The two had been sitting together, waiting for Dick to come back home. The thought that he may never see him again, that he could have just been imprisoned or killed so easily, all alone in the Institute, had made him sick to his stomach. 

They’d seen him come back, but it was  _ his  _ turn to hold his companion back. Preston had wanted to run over, to see what happened, but the faraway, lost look on his face told MacCready everything he needed to know. He’d been there, personally. He’d snatched the duster by the back, holding him steady, insisting they find him later and to give him some time to think.

Now, though, night had fallen. Preston had taken up watch, but it left him with nothing. He’d told Preston he would go find him, talk to him. As much as Garvey wanted to do it, he yielded to the mercenary, thanking him softly. He could see why the General was so drawn to him. Had one asked a few months ago, he’d have laughed their cause off. Now, seeing Dick in action, seeing his easy command and steady, unwavering leadership, he watched the Minutemen become real, become a force to be reckoned with,  _ actually helping  _ the people like they said. He took back the disrespect to Garvey and the minutemen. Dick deserved it. A silent bond had formed between them, from hours and hours of waiting for the same man to return from the vastly unknown. 

He’d used Dogmeat to track him down, and had told him to wait at the entrance as he descended. It was oddly comforting, being underground again, huddling under a low ceiling. Felt like home, way way back. He hated Vault 87, but it was nice to feel cramped in again, in a weird way. But now, Dick was standing there,  _ still,  _ twenty minutes after he’d arrived, with no indication of even realizing he was there. 

MacCready finally made a decision, stepping closer until he was at the survivor’s side. All these frozen bodies, surrounding him, while  _ he  _ was the only one to escape - if he could ever read Dick’s mind, this would be his one pass. He placed a hand on the small of his partner’s back, letting him know he was there. He looked into the cryo pod, where a beautiful young woman lay as if sleeping, frozen, if not for the blood staining her chest. 

“We’ve got to bury her,” Dick finally whispered, hoarse from lack of use. He just nodded, rubbing a soothing hand on his partner’s back. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, boss,” he replied gently. They stood together there for a while longer. Finally, it was just  _ too  _ late; the man had been through so much, and he knew he needed sleep.  _ If  _ he could sleep. “C’mon… let’s go back up. Preston is worried about you.”

Dick doesn’t reply, doesn’t even change his facial expression. MacCready gently put pressure on the small of his back, and the wanderer yielded to pressure, walking with a distant look on his face, his body only following MacCready’s gentle leading. This was fine, as long as he got out. As the elevator clunks into place at the top, MacCready presses him off the platform onto the grass, which requires a bit of effort as Dogmeat scrambles over, investigating his current master’s state. He walks out of his hand, moving off just to the edge of the grass before it dropped off on a slope. He watched Dick lie down in the grass, looking smaller than ever, Dogmeat lying his head in his lap. It was a long time before Dick finally raised a hand to put it on the dog’s head, petting slowly. He wondered when he would cry, all this time. Blow for blow, Dick had taken so many hits since even before he left the Vault, but he never shed a tear. At first, MacCready had thought he may just be really f- ...strong, emotionally. Now, looking at his partner, who still did not cry, he considered the idea that maybe, just maybe, before him laid a broken man. Unnerved at the conclusion, he padded over, silencing his steps, settling into the grass beside him. They were barely an inch apart, and he could feel the disturbance on his skin when their clothes would touch, could feel his hair standing on end at the anticipation of a touch that would never come. 

Dick lets out a very shaky breath, like his lungs aren’t working. MacCready hurts for him, knows the pain of losing his wife and seeing her again. 

“I remember the way she looked at me the night we took him home.” MacCready watches him for a moment, but he’s lost in the stars again. His fingers are still scruffing Dog gently, who is asleep in his lap, content. “The only light was from his nightlight. She looked at me like she had fallen in love all over again. ‘Jackloo, you are the sweetest, most selfless man in the world, and I’ll never forget just how lucky I am that you walked in that day.’ I didn’t know how to tell her, you know? She knew I did it for her, I didn’t know how to say that I was just setting us up for failure, that I didn’t  _ want  _ to be a father, that she was enough. She was all the family I needed. But I wasn’t all the family  _ she  _ needed, and my love for her outweighed my fear for myself. 

“She loved him. I loved him too, he was mine and hers, that was our son. I was going to teach him to play baseball. I know it was every father’s dream back then, but I wanted him to go pro. I wondered if he’d grow up like me, you know? Maybe he’d go military too. Hell, maybe he’d be pararescue, like me. As the days passed, she always said he was too smart for his own good, like his father. Said maybe he’d be some big researcher, maybe he’d cure the New Plague one day.” MacCready watched his hands shake, as they always did, wondering just how much of it was the cryo, how much was sheer emotion. MacCready turned his gaze back to the sky as he described what had happened; the Institute, the synth child - which was a new low, even for them - and how the old man named Father walked through the door. How Dick had just  _ known,  _ even before he dropped the bomb. How he’d been raised by the Institute, now its leader. 

“And he looked at me… and he saw what I gave him. He didn’t see his father, the man who hunted for him in memory of his wife. He saw the General, who stood tall before him instead of letting emotion drop him to his knees. He saw an asset, a man whose quick mind he could convert and use to power the Institute further. And when he made that clear, I realized… I didn’t see my son. I’m not sure I ever had a son. I saw my enemy. My  _ enemy.”  _ His voice broke there, a ghost of a sob. 

“Nora… I failed her. I failed him. I found her son too late. And I rejected him. Our  _ son  _ declared war on us. It was like he saw that emblem on my chest like it was a gun to his face. I couldn’t save him from the war. Couldn’t save him from being kidnapped. Couldn’t save him from the passing of time. Couldn’t save him from  _ me.” _

MacCready wants to talk. To tell him it’ll be okay, that he  _ wasn’t  _ a failure, that he did the best he could. But he was grieving. He lost his wife, his son, all the hope he’d had for the future, all this time. His driving force the past few months was suddenly gone. And he knew words wouldn’t reach the general. So he stayed quiet, wanting so desperately to be of  _ some  _ help to him. The mercenary looks at him, briefly. He wishes, for a moment, that he were braver, brave enough to roll over, to distract him from the hell he’d been walking for just a few minutes. He wishes he were braver.

He’s glad he isn’t. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, this one is a bit long.

The last pat of the shovel on dirt echoes in his ears like a never ending chamber. Here lies his wife, an angel, his queen. Sure, it was old-fashioned for him to think it, but no man should ever have to bury his wife. He always thought the man should be first to go. He always thought  _ he  _ should be first to go; maybe during the war, or maybe from the years the stress shaved off of his life. Yet here he was, two hundred years overdue, standing in front of a freshly-dug mound of dirt and two wooden crosses. His son had died in there with her, sixty years ago. Maybe it would help her cope in the afterlife. He knelt down to adjust hers, to straighten it up a little more, patting a handful of dirt to make it stable. He could feel the eyes on his back; Codsworth of course had to join him, but Preston and MacCready had helped him dig, emotionally stabilizing him as he had placed her gently at the bottom of her grave. Mac then clasped his forearm, helping him back up. He was surprised, to say in the least, when Preston had hopped in, holding a few hubflowers Dick assumed he got from the nearby bushes, threading them into her hair. He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat when he hoisted him back out of the grave, giving a meaningful look when he knew his words would fail him.

Now, Codsworth vocalized a soft cry, his processors whirring in an attempt to process the overload of information and emotion. He stared down at the two crosses, backdropped by the woods he used to roam. The stable, emotionless edge in his voice surprised him.

“Now, we focus all of our efforts on taking down the Institute.”

Sturges hands him the holotape, watches him pop it into his Pip-Boy. Too much data scrambled all over - he gets to work organizing it into folders. The greaser rubs his neck, laughing. 

“Sorry, Dick. I tend to… think all over the place. Maybe I shoulda organized it for you.”

Dick waves him off, clicking his way through folders until it finally is all organized. “There’s a lot in here. Good work, Sturges.”

“No sweat, hoss. You sure you wanna do this?”

Dick glared. “I’ve made my choice. The Institute is my enemy.”

“That’s good news, because I just got word from the Castle.” 

He looks over his shoulder to see Preston approaching, rifle in hand. Dick walks to meet him, and Sturges gives them their privacy. He wished he could enjoy it; being alone with the Lieutenant, being close enough that one more step would bring them into a far more personal space. But even his feelings seem muted, buried under hatred and boiling lava that threatened to erupt from his skin any moment, driven by his blinding need to take down the Institute and… Father. 

“The Institute is scouting the Castle. Looks like they’re gearing up for a major attack. And if we lose the Castle, that puts us back to square one again, and I -  _ we  _ can’t let that happen. I’ve sent word for all Minutemen to meet there, at the Castle.”

Dick scowls. “We aren’t going to lose it, Lieutenant. The time has come to show these bastards that attacking the Minutemen was a  _ very bad idea.” _

Preston grins, determined and rowdy. “I’ve got your back, General.”

He meets with Ronnie Shaw, steps back to let her pep up the soldiers. He had more important matters to attend to. Wave after wave of synths and courses came, zapping into their grounds, trespassing, infiltrating their home,  _ his  _ home, his pride. Snarling, he swung blindly, throwing himself at anything that moved. 

He was drenched in sweat by the time they stopped. Minutemen joined in the courtyard, looking a little tired and less in numbers. Ronnie stood, calling their attention, giving a speech about pressing on,despite their losses. Dick was grateful for her, for that moment; she definitely knew what she was talking about, they believed her, and he wasn’t sure he had the heart to deliver a speech that wasn’t filled with vengeance right now. Preston appeared beside him, placing a hand on his back quietly, waiting for him to gather his breath and thoughts. When he stood, the two ducked out of the courtyard, disappearing into his office where he shut the door behind them.

“We should talk to Sturges. I think he’s got a way for us to get in there.”

“Good,” Dick says, hands on his hips as he stood straighter, trying to catch his breath. “It’s time we took the fight to them. “They will  _ not  _ destroy the minutemen. The Institute will take nothing more from me. We are gonna take them down.”

Preston grips his rifle, nods. “Let’s do this.”

Dick finally stood over a familiar computer. Making his way underground had been less than ideal, especially by himself. It had been hard to leave Dogmeat behind, and even harder MacCready. 

_ “What?! Dick, I- Why? You-you can’t!” _

_ “I have to, Mac. I have to do this alone. It’s not safe.” _

_ MacCready had glared. “I know! That’s why you need me to watch your back. What if you die in there?”  _

_ Dick’s fingers curled, not quite able to form fists. He sighed, looking down at his friend. “RJ… I have to do this. Just stay here.” Mac looked… actually hurt. Wounded, even. He moved a little closer, into his space. “Please. I need a reason to come home.” _

_ MacCready doesn’t look at him, but rushes forward to hug him. “Just… make sure you do come home, okay?” _

Dick’s fingers hover over the keys, shaking his head to clear the memory. He would make it home. This would not be his grave. He loaded the holotape, clicking through the files until he fired up the interceptor. Shortly after, Sturges materialized in the teleportation chamber. Dick watched him step out, followed by a flash of light that became Preston. 

“Wow. Why would they even bother us? They’ve got it  _ made  _ down here.” Preston admired the room, so pristine and perfectly preserved. Dick is stuck on a one-track mind.

“I don’t care why they did it. They’re going to  _ pay.” _ He can hear the burning acid in his own voice. 

“Damn right they are. You’re gonna need this,” Preston said, handing him the pulse charge. “Just… try to issue an evac order. We don’t wanna kill the innocent civilians. Sturges? Get this teleporter fired up.”

Flanked by his lieutenant and a handful of minutemen, Dick cleared a path through the halls, old, run-down synths their only resistance. He took no time shutting down each sequence of turrets, Shaun’s security system no match for his father. As they stepped into the bioscience lab, Preston whistled. “So  _ this  _ is what it looks like.” Dick scanned the room until he found a hallway labelled ‘FEV.’ He ordered they stay and clear the room, ducking through synths and scientists and… gorillas? Not important, he decided as he kept moving. He felt an increasingly familiar sense of aching emptiness at his back, vulnerable without MacCready. Suppressing a shiver, he kept crawling through the labs until he found a small vial in a chamber of dead super mutants, like a morgue. He read the labels, checking the notes on the table surrounding it. He tucked it safely in his pockets, in the inner lining of his coat. His hand brushed a lump, and he briefly tucked his hand into the pocket, touching the toy soldier inside. He closed his eyes, steadying his breathing, clearing his head.  _ Come back home. _

He comes out of a different door, back into the bioscience lab. His squad makes it out into the atrium. A voice comes over the loudspeaker; Sturges informs him of his next moves. And that he needs to go to the Director’s terminal.

He tells Preston to stay behind and provide firepower. He slammed a fist on the elevator’s button, but the further down he descended, the heavier his body felt. Cold ice ran through his veins as he walked down a familiar hallway. He expects to see synth Shaun, and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees an empty glass cage. He took the short elevator up to the Director’s room. It’s completely silent, and empty. He walked slowly, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. He felt eerily calm when he reached the top stair, turning his head to lock eyes with Shaun, who regarded him with that same eerie calmness in his green eyes. 

“I didn’t expect to see you again.” Dick hurts a little, at this. That’s not his son, it never was, but their first (and last) meeting was still very fresh in his mind. He walks, or maybe more correctly, stalks his way over to the director’s bedside. “I’m certain you aren’t here to change your mind.”

“I’m sorry it’s come to this.” It’s true. He wished he would have come here, found his little boy, and taken him home. Wished he’d come here and found his family. Instead, he stood before an old man too weak to leave his bed, glaring daggers into his very soul.

“You’re sorry? You can't be that sorry if you're going through with it. It's not enough that I lay here dying… now you plan on what, destroying everything?” And just like that, that brief lapse in judgement, that moment of Jackson is gone. The general sets his jaw, looks down at this old man with disregard. “So what righteous pretense are you operating under that justified this atrocity?”

Dick raised a brow. “All the enemies you have created out there, and you can’t fathom why I’d be standing here?” He asked, gesturing in front of him.

“Perhaps I just didn’t think to count  _ you  _ among them.” Jackson is wounded. The General, instead, narrows his eyes. 

“‘Once you leave this place, I must consider you hostile,’” he quoted, watching a flicker of a wince pass Shaun’s face. Regret. Recognition of a mistake. It was all too little, too late, from both of them. 

“None of it matters now, I suppose,” Shaun said quietly.  You'll accomplish your task and ruin humanity's best hope for the future.” Dick can't help the way his lip curls in disgust. “So, I guess our only question left, is why you are standing here. Is it regret? Or did you come to gloat?”

His eyes flicker to the control terminal. He could sit there and break in, with ease. But he has to win, has to show these bastards that  _ somewhere  _ in there he can corrupt their most perfectly tailored asset. 

 

“Shaun…” Not Father. He looks to the dying man. “If you help me, if you give me your code, fewer people will die. They can survive, and carry on their research after this place is gone. They’ll have a chance to continue on.”

 

“Why would I ever consider helping you?” Shaun is offended, shocked, appalled. But Dick is a smart man. At least right now, he still has his attention. He just has to push it a little further. 

 

“Help me, and I will protect any survivors to the best of my ability. Homes. Food. Water. Safety. A guarantee from the general of the minutemen.” Dick has one last hold of power over his head. 

 

“...Very well.” Shaun sounds defeated. Dick is proud. He won. He took their own leader, turned him against them. He wishes the victory was less hollow. “Access code 9003. Now leave me.”

 

“Shaun-” He starts, but Shaun shoots him a furious look.

 

“You've doomed humanity. There's nothing more to say.”

 

“Are you in any pain?” He shouldn't care to ask. But he can feel Nora, sitting on his bedside, watching him. 

 

“Yes of course. But it will end soon, won't it? Thanks to you.”

 

He can feel her hand on his as he raised a hand, placing it on the broken old man’s forehead and swiping a thumb over it. Just a moment. The man is glaring, but neither say anything. There's no way he could remember, remember the way he did it when he was a baby. Dick goes to the terminal. First comes the evac order. Then he used the override to the security system. And, with a moment's pause, shut down the synths. 

 

“Good job!” Sturges, over the intercom. “It's unlocked. It's open enough for you to reach the reactor. By the time you're ready, I'll have the teleporter ready.” He straightens out, feels Shaun’s eyes on him. He doesn't look back when he walks down the stairs. 

 

He headed to Advanced systems, pulse ready. Preston is at his back; it’s not the same as MacCready, but he feels more comfortable knowing there’s someone watching over him. They’re fighting when Preston goes down, screaming in pain. Dick can’t remember much next; his only thought is to get to the lieutenant, feeling the burn of lasers cutting through him. He knelt by the man, pulling out a Stimpack. A hand grabs his chestplate, yanking him down off-balance as he shot at a synth behind him. Dick quickly jammed the needle into the man’s leg, helping him up. Preston pushed him, shouting over the gunfire and pointing to the reactor.

 

Dick sprints for it, opening the door and entering the chamber. It’s quieter, though can’t block out the battle outside. He can’t help but admire it; warped in blue energy, pulsing around it. Preston’s shout of anger brought him back; he clicked the pulse charge into place, backing away and running back to Preston. The man grabs him by the arm, shouting to Sturges to teleport them to safety.

 

“Let’s get outta here!” He shouts as they rematerialize.

 

“I, uh… I would. But this kid just showed up saying he’s the General’s kid?”

Oh no. No, no no no no. Please no. He pushed past Preston as the child synth sprinted up to him. 

 

“Dad!! Please, don’t leave me here!” No. He can’t… he can’t do this.

 

“Why did you call me dad?” He asks, trying to keep his voice level.

 

“What? You’re my father!” The child cried desperately. 

 

“Who  _ told  _ you I was your father?” He snapped, hands curling into fists as he tried to maintain his composure.

 

“N...no one told me! You just are!”

 

Dick looked down at this boy. This was the son he’d been chasing, all along. This ten-year old boy. His son. Nora’s son.

 

Then, he remembers the shutdown code. The boy’s panic, the first time Dick saw him. Screaming, pleading for Father to come save him. Seeing him, then seeing Shaun, wondering just how many synthetic replacements they’d put in his life. He thought about all he had worked for; building a home, his dogs, his partner, his lieutenant, the Minutemen. The Castle. This was nothing short of psychological warfare from the Institute; one last blow from Father before he died. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t…

 

“I’m not your father. Whoever told you that was lying.”

 

Shaun let out a strangled sob. “But you  _ are!  _ Don’t you love me anymore?”

 

God, it hurts. He wanted so badly to have his wife and son back. The Institute was  _ sick.  _ First his real son, and now this… abomination. “You’re not my son. You’re a synth. A robot. I loved my son. My  _ real  _ son. You’re not him. It’s not fair to ask me that.”

 

The boy screams, that he was just saying that, that he just wanted to leave him behind, that he hated him. Dick moved to Sturges.

 

“Let’s go, Sturges.” 

 

“Hang on. You’re gonna just leave him here? Your own son, to burn?” Sturges stands, looking at him like he’s a stranger. Right now, he feels like one.

 

“He’s not my son. He’s a  _ synth. _ ” Dick is fine with synths. But he won’t let the Institute hurt him like this, serve as a reminder every day of what they stole. 

 

“God _ damn.  _ Amazing how low they’ll sink. I’m… when you’re ready, I’ll zap you outta here.” Dick steels himself, dizzy as the blinding light whisks him away.

 

They’re on top of the mass fusion building. “Sturges figured this was a safe enough distance. When you’re ready to see humanity’s best hope go up in flames, just hit the detonator,” Preston informs him softly, as if speaking too loud will break him. Dick feels numb as he stares at the building from afar. Over the radio, they get the ‘all-clear’ from Sturges. He thumbs the button for a moment, then presses it. 

 

The explosion blasts in the distance. Vaguely, he’s aware of Preston’s hand slipping into his, gripping it. He closes his eyes.

 

He felt it all; heat, radiation, force, fear. He feels small again, watching the world end all over again, and this time, he’s at the helm. He wondered if the Old World leaders had felt the same, looking at the world in steely defeat, their thumb brushing the button in consideration, knowing they had no other option. All he can see is Sanctuary, in its former glory. Neighbors walking dogs. Waving to him, kneeling to pet Ruckus. Shaking his hand, smiling. Asking about his day. His wife. When the baby is due. Neighbors cooing over the tiny bundle, all begging for playdates and pictures and a chance to hold him. Cookouts. Days in the park, dressed in slacks and a vest, his dog scampering off, his wife twirling to show off her new green dress. 

 

It all shifts. He’s not ready. Wasn’t ready. Didn’t want to be ready, to ever see the day his world changed. But it happens. It always happens. Change comes. It’s not a choice. He didn’t want this. God, he didn’t want it. But it was what he had. Where he found himself. In the Commonwealth wasteland, completely alone, unable to adjust with his old life still hovering over his head. His home, ripped apart, put back together like some disgusting Frankenstein’s monster. He thought… he hoped… maybe, just maybe he could find his son. Find his family. Make them whole. Cheat time, death. But he knew better. Maybe he always had. There was no going back. The world ended - no, changed. Yes, it’s hard. But this time he’s ready. He sees Dogmeat. Preston. MacCready. The Bobrovs. Travis, Hancock, Sturges. MacCready. Preston… 

 

He opens his eyes. He tightens his grip around Preston’s hand, for just a moment, then lets go.

 

“Holy shit… That was one hell of a bang.” Dick can barely look away from the blast site, still settling its dust. Preston turns to him, but he can’t tear his gaze away from the destruction. “You did order the evac… right? I didn’t notice in the fray.” 

 

Dick swallows, trying to pull on the General, to tap into him and put on a front. “C’mon. Did you really think I’d kill everyone?” He asks, turning to his Lieutenant.

 

“Hey, I wasn’t really worried, General, but watching the explosion… I just wanted to make sure we didn’t kill anyone we didn’t absolutely have to. I hate that we had to do it, but we had no choice.”

 

“It was war,” the general growled.

 

Preston nodded. “And now the war is over. The way’s clear for the Commonwealth to finally come together and build something good for the future. But it's not just sunshine and rainbows from here on out.”

 

Dick tries to make his smile convincing. “What, no sunshine and rainbows? Next thing you know you'll be telling me I won't be getting a pony.”

 

Preston laughs. “If I had any ponies to hand out, you'd be first on my list.” His smile fell as he tried to be serious. “We could never have gotten here without you, General. The Institute was the most insidious thing we ever faced. Kept the Commonwealth divided for  _ centuries _ . But there are plenty of other problems left to deal with. We won't be out of a job for a long time yet, as much as I wish for it. We deserve to enjoy our victory, but soon enough it’s gonna be time to get back to work.”

 

Dick sighed. “Yeah. Back to work.” He makes a move, but Preston grabs his sleeve, a mischievous glare on his face.

  
“Yeah. But  _ first,  _ a goddamned  _ break,  _ Dick.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the day after; acceptance.

 

Dick is awake before the sun. They made it to Sanctuary just as night had fallen, and the two had gone straight to their beds, collapsing. The bed was painfully empty as he awoke; Dogmeat was asleep on the floor and the cats, were on their pillows and at the foot of the bed, sure. But the space beside him was empty, his heart feeling the same. She was gone. Buried, for real. Shaun was dead, just an old man with no family, no last name. He reached out, his fingers curling into the sheets, where her hip would have been. Finally, he gets up, though the sun still hasn’t tried to rise. He doesn’t check his watch. 

 

Dick slides on a hoodie, tugs on some sweats, feeling too inhuman to wear anything else. It’s too early anyway. The air is cool outside as he steps out, bare feet padding on the weird sprouts of dry grass that tried to grow. He found himself at the river, and sluggishly climbed up to the square top of one of the brick walls. He tucked his feet up to his body, wrapping his arms around his legs in a weird fetal hug, eyes glazing over as he stared at the water. He vaguely hears the industrial-sized water filter pumping water through the river. 

 

The Institute was gone. How long until Travis would report on it? Maybe he already had, in the dead of night. He wondered how many people knew already. Surely, they all saw the explosion, but did they  _ know?  _ The boogeyman of the Commonwealth, eradicated, by the simple press of a button. He saw his son’s face, old enough to be  _ his  _ father. Hell, he looked a little like Dick’s father, once upon a time. Lying there in pain, waiting for death to take him. Had he done him a service, ending it like he had? Would he have been hurting for longer if he hadn’t? Had the explosion killed him quickly and painlessly? It must have. He thinks of the synth boy. Maybe in another life, he would have taken him. Called him son, taught him to play baseball, taught him science and computers. Taken him hiking, gotten him his own dog. In this life, in this world, he could see it for what he thought it truly was - war. All bets were off in war. No holds barred, no punches pulled. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to believe that reprogramming the boy to think he was his son was just one last attack to his psyche. He wouldn’t have aged, wouldn’t have grown up. Maybe he had done the boy a favor, letting him die in there. 

 

He felt… empty. Unfulfilled. Every waking moment since the bombs had first dropped was dedicated to protecting his family, finding his son. Now, waking up without purpose…

 

He couldn’t say that. He had the Minutemen. But he had been driven, every day, to break into the Institute, to find Shaun. Without that driving purpose, with only the passive requirement of protecting the people, Dick wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Where to go next. What to do. Preston would tell him to take a break. But what after that? Breaks implied a ‘between’ stage, and right now, he didn’t have an after, a next goal. He felt lost. Empty. 

 

The sun has risen when his eyes refocus. Not completely; the sky is pink and orange and red and purple and blue. Streaking with colors, all separated like oil and water, like they can’t quite mesh together. He feels the same. He stays there until the sun gets high enough that the colors start to blend, finally becoming blue and white and orange. He unfurls his body, stiff from the cramped position, climbing slowly off the ledge. Every muscle in his body hurts, screaming in pain from overuse the day before. It takes him back to his first steps out of the vault, when they had done the same, still trying to defrost. 

 

He wonders if he will ever defrost.

 

It’s still far, far too early for people to be awake, but he sees Jun on his knees in the garden. He always liked Jun, feeling a little kindred-spirit vibe between them. Hopelessly lost, just trying to press on one day at a time. He goes back to his house, stops outside of his room and behind his shoulder to the room across from his. The door is shut, and Preston must be asleep inside. He deserved it, the ability to finally sleep peacefully. He wished he could join him. He wasn’t sure in what way. 

 

Dick stayed in his sweats, letting himself just bundle up and be human for a while, sitting on his bed to pull on his socks and shoes. Dog wakes up, shuffling over to put his head in his master’s lap, sighing heavily. Dick petted him for a while, the automatic movement giving him a grounding space. 

 

“Let’s go for a walk,” he murmured to the dog, who was up on his feet in a heartbeat, barking. They hadn’t been on a hike in weeks, too busy with the Institute and Shaun to just take the time. He let Dog lead him to the start of their trail; he had taken him so many times that the canine actually knew the start of the path now. How long had he been out of the Vault? How long since he’d started his hunt for Shaun, met Preston, started the Minutemen? Months? A year? Decades? Part of him wanted to ask. The rest of him decided maybe it was best to just let it be and not keep track of such a terrible anniversary. He told himself that he did everything just in time, at the right speed. To check the calendar now, to work out the specifics just might turn it into a problem; could he have worked faster, what if he had gone slower - all things he needed to just let rest. 

 

The crunch of leaves under his feet is accompanied only by the panting of his dog. He follows his usual path, letting muscle memory take him along. He finds he can’t enjoy it the way he usually does. It feels empty. Everything feels empty.  _ He  _ feels empty. Dick wonders if he’ll ever feel something else again. Maybe he’s broken, doomed to feel like a lifeless husk for the remainder of his days. He sat on his stump. When had he gotten there? His usual stop, their turnaround point back when he and Ruckus used to clear trails, always meeting at this central point. He looked down at his shaking hands. He barely noticed anymore, it was such a constant in his life that being unable to load guns or pick locks was hardly even missed. He wondered what others thought; when his soldiers saw his hands, did they still see the General, a powerful man who could sway anyone with word or sword? Or did they see a feeble, broken man, too weak to hold a gun? 

 

A heavy sigh racked his lungs, which burned as if he’d been running a marathon. He buried his face in his hands, steady once they had something to hold on to. It was nice to be alone in the quiet dark, retreating to the farthest reaches of his mind. Silence, and he couldn’t tell if it was a blessed silence of peace or the crushing reality of defeat and loss after war. 

 

“Dick…?”

 

His voice is so quiet that the general thinks, for just a second, that he imagined it. He took one more second of peace before tugging himself back to the forefront, raising his head to look. MacCready was a few yards in front of him, looking concerned, his hands curling and uncurling his fingers, like he wanted to reach out, wasn’t sure. Dick stood off his stump, and MacCready approached slowly, like a wounded animal. The wanderer looked down at this man, his partner, his every morning, his every night, his miles of miles of running and fighting and travelling and scavenging, his quiet days reading comics and busy days killing without remorse, his attached at the hip and never close enough. 

 

“Hey, RJ,” he said, though tiredly. This breaks whatever barrier had come up; MacCready pulls him into a hug, which he is more than happy to return, losing himself in the familiar heat, the familiar scent, familiar presence of his partner. 

 

“Oh, thank fu- thank God.” It’s slightly muffled, with his face buried in his chest like that. “I was so freaking scared I was gonna lose you in there.” His hands claw into his back, pulling him closer. He doesn’t want to, but he’s briefly reminded of coming back to the coffee shop on leave. Every time he stepped in, Nora would hug him, murmuring how grateful she was that he hadn’t died out there. It was a cold truth of war, and he didn’t want to put that on MacCready, not anymore than he already had to. 

 

“I couldn’t. I had a reason to come home.” MacCready surfaces from his chest, and Dick honestly couldn’t say who moved first. It was like they both just  _ knew,  _ like they always knew, closing what little distance was between them. 

 

Kissing MacCready made him feel like he’d been waiting his whole life. He didn’t even want to breathe, wasn’t sure he still could. He could just taste a hint of smoke, the nicotine still on his tongue, pulling him in with a second-hand addiction to the mercenary. His arms tighten around his waist, too small for a grown man, all of him just too small, like he’ll crush him. There is just the barest hint of tongue, and it makes his knees weak. 

He’s dizzy when they try to part, though they stay so close their lips are still touching, occasionally taking one more soft kiss, like they won’t get another chance. When they finally pull off, it’s reluctant, and the emotion and adrenaline that has been pumping through his veins begins to settle, making this feel an awful lot like home.

MacCready takes a step back, and Dick lets him go, already missing the comfort and heat he provided. He’s red in the face, and trying to recollect his racing mind by steadying his breathing. “Dick, I... “ He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. “What, uh… what about your  _ wife?  _ I mean, I know she’s gone, but you still love her, don’t you?”

This is a test. This isn’t a question for Dick. It’s a question for himself. But it brings to mind something else.  _ Someone  _ else. 

“I will always love her, because that was my wife. But I’m learning a lot about the world after the bombs. Holding back love because of obsolete views and fears will only make moving on and learning to live again harder.” MacCready is absorbing every word, transfixed. Dick can’t hold his gaze and looks down at his hands. His voice is barely audible as he speaks again. “Would it bother you if I have feelings for Preston, too?” He’s putting everything he has, all of his chances on the table. He feels vulnerable and weak and totally open and terrified. Losing MacCready might be a blow he can’t handle. He licked his lips, hoping this wouldn’t be the last of the lingering taste that had settled there. The mercenary is silent for a long time, thinking. Dick can’t meet his gaze, but feels the burn of tears in his throat and just behind his eyes. He wished he could still cry. The fact that he still hadn’t, after all that had happened, even during this, he wonders if that, too, had been broken by the cryo.

“Dick…” He winced, the uncertainty killing him. He took it back about being able to read MacCready; he’d never felt so unprepared, so lost in his life, uncertain of what came next. The man stepped forward, just into his space, making him look up, trying to muster the strength to maintain eye contact. “I love you. And I didn’t think I’d ever feel that again. I’m not sure I could ever forgive myself if I gave up on you… on  _ this,  _ just because I’m… selfish, or insecure, or uncertain, or… I don’t know. If you can find a way to make it work… nothing will change the fact that I love you.” 

_ I love you.  _ It replays over and over again in his mind. They had danced around it for so long, never bothering to recognize what it was, but having it out in the open…  _ God,  _ it had been so obvious. He chokes out a sound that might be a sob, grabbing the man by the face and pulling him back in to kiss him, a pair of hands at his hips tugging him closer, pressing them flush to one another. Dick threads his fingers through his hair, in complete disbelief. “I love you,  _ God  _ RJ, I love you,” he says into his mouth, his hands shaking for an entirely new reason. He parted his lips, giving way to let MacCready take over his senses completely, submitting himself to finally just  _ feeling. _

They’re both panting when they finally separate again, Dick scruffing his fingers through the dirty-blonde hair. MacCready leans their foreheads together, sighing. Dick has to bend his neck to reach, but being here, finally… 

MacCready presses one soft kiss to his lips. “Are you going to tell him?” 

“...Yeah. He deserves to know. Are you okay with that?” Dick lowers his hands from his head to wrap his arms around his back, over his arms. MacCready tugs his arms so the man leans a little closer, though there is little room left between them.

“He deserves to know,” he echoed. He brought a hand up to cup his jaw, thumb brushing his cheek. “As long as I can still have you, I’m okay with it.” Dick kisses him one more time, slow and lingering. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! finally! it took 22 chapters. is it weird to say it still didnt feel slow burny enough? yikes.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> talking it out.

He’s standing in front of his mirror, trying to collect his strength. He takes in a deep breath, lets it out with a ‘whoosh.’ 

  
  
  


Preston had been asleep nearly all day, completely wiped from the whirlwind of adventure from the past few days. The sun was setting when Dick walked out of his house, scanning the road. He spotted the lieutenant on the bridge, leaning over the railing and staring off west. Dick approached him, hands in his hoodie pocket. 

“Hey, General,” he said, in that easy way of his that made Dick’s knees weak. 

“Hey, Lieutenant.” A humorless smirk from Preston at that. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking, lately.” Dick leans over the railing, watching the sunset ripple on the water. “Back to how things were when we first met. It was the lowest point in my life. I mean… all my closest friends were dead. Everything I had ever believed in turned out to be a lie. I’d failed  _ everyone  _ who’d ever relied on me. I led them to Concord, and we had no hope of getting out alive.” Dick folded his hands together, not looking at Preston. He didn’t want him to lose his nerve, to stop talking - Preston rarely showed the negative side of himself, and it felt organic, human. “The thing is… I was actually okay with that. I was ready to die. It was what I felt like I deserved. It was what I wanted.”

Dick wants to look at him, to bundle him into his arms and hold him tight and never let go. He had suffered so much, had to fight himself every day, fight the negativity in his mind from getting out and still having to put on that positive, happy front. Despite expecting the worst, he always exuded hoping for the best. Giving him a chance to talk about it, someone he could trust - Dick only hoped he could give him a chance to rewrite the pessimism that plagued his inner mind. 

“Do you still feel that way?” He asked, watching a bird spear a fish out of the water, flying away with it wriggling in its beak.

“...No. Not at all. That’s what I wanted to talk about.” Preston fidgeted with his gloves, adjusting the well-worn leather. Dick was surprised;  _ he  _ was the one that wanted to talk, didn’t expect  _ Preston  _ to have something to say. He should have expected it; he had just recruited some terrified Pre-war vault dweller as the general one day, and in a short time he had managed to take down the enemy that no one had dared to even stand up to in centuries. “My point in all this is, well.. You saved my life. And not just by saving us from the raiders in Concord. I mean, you… made me want to keep living again.” A grim smile crossed his face, looking down at his hands. “I know that sounds pretty sappy, but it’s true. If we hadn’t met, or if you just killed those raiders and took off, I’m not sure I’d still be around. I would’ve found some way to… you know… end it. Sure, maybe I wouldn’t have just shot myself in the head or anything, but I would’ve stopped caring if I lived or died. So I just want you to know that. How much your friendship means to me.” He lets out the last of his breath from the long-winded confession, the tension dropping minutely from his shoulders after finally letting it out. 

Dick stares off at the horizon, absorbing it all. “Have you ever considered us becoming more than just friends, Preston?” He asks, not looking at him. He’s hyper aware of his shaking hands, despite his fingers laced together in an attempt to steady them.

“Have I ever…? Wait, you mean- you also-” Preston actually looks at him now, standing up, surprised. Dick straightens out, turning to the Lieutenant, trying to portray his sincerity. “Hang on. You kinda caught me off guard.” He took a steadying breath, searching Dick’s face for the joke. He looks away when there is none. “If you’re asking if I’ve ever thought about you… romantically… the short answer is yes.” Now he ducks under his hat, embarrassed. “But I never thought… you could feel the same. At first, I thought you were still in love with your wife, but… when I saw you with MacCready, the two of you… I guess I  _ knew  _ you loved him.” He knows it’s just Preston thinking out loud, but it feels like an accusation. He still feels guilt for falling in love with two people, still isn’t sure it’s possible, however… “But I thought it was just wishful thinking that you could love me, too.”

“Does it bother you that I love both of you?” He asked, tentatively, nervous. Preston is smiling when he looks back up.

“No. I’m just… ecstatic. Being with you is what matters. I, uh…” Preston rubs his neck, sheepish. “I’ve done this before. I had a boyfriend and a girlfriend before the fall of the minutemen. I… lost them in the Quincy massacre. But I’m okay. And now… the chance to be with you- how long have you, you know, felt this way?” Preston looks…. Happy. Hopeful. 

“It was hard to come to terms with. I wasn’t sure, you know? I just knew that you were important to me, that I cared about you, more than I should, more than other people. But when I started thinking it might be more than friendship, I was terrified - I didn’t know it was even  _ possible  _ to love two people at once.” Dick grabs his own shoulder loosely, like a protective barrier across his chest. 

“It’s called polyamory. It’s actually pretty common, out here in the Commonwealth. Seeing you with MacCready… I could never take you from that. But I just want to be with you. And, I guess this is a good a chance as any to get to know him, too,” Preston says with a gentle grin. 

“Can I kiss you?” Dick asks, feeling a little unsteady. It felt too good to be true, almost unreal. Preston laughs, grabbing his face and kissing him. 

It’s different, from MacCready - there’s no taste of smoke, he smells different, tastes different, feels different. He loved it just as much, still wanted more, still felt his heart pounding in his chest. Maybe it  _ was  _ possible to love two people at once. He tugs him closer, thick muscle replacing the hard, small planes of the mercenary. He let himself get lost in it, the headiness, intoxicating him, dragging him further from his senses. 

“ _ Ahem. _ ” Dick tries to look, but Preston is quick as a flash, whipping off his hat and hiding their faces behind it. His other hand is still on his face, slides to his chin to redirect Dick's attention back to him. He gives him one more hungry kiss, nipping his bottom lip with a wink as he pulls off. The unusual display of confidence sends a jolt down Dick’s spine, lingering long after Preston pulls off and puts his hat back on, sending a flush over his cheeks and an unsteadiness in his breathing. Marcy rolls her eyes at them, continuing past them to check the fishing traps on the other side of the river, but he can't be damned to care. 

“We should go talk to MacCready,” Preston said, and Dick only nods, still trying to remember how to come back to his senses. 

They find MacCready in the house, sitting on the couch. He looks at them expectantly, and Dick can’t resist swooping down for a brief kiss - if only because he finally  _ can.  _

The three sat on the couch, and just… talked. Feelings bared, insecurities, hopes, fears, boundaries, fighting jealousy, everything was laid out on the table. Preston recounted what his previous relationship was like, how it worked, what didn’t work, things they could avoid and things they could try.

“Does this mean we’re dating, too?” MacCready asked Preston - he didn’t look upset or worried, but uncertain. 

“No. We’re both dating Dick. But it’s possible, down the road - it’s pretty common in this kind of situation. But we should at least be friends,” Preston mused. They had always been stiff around each other - Preston fighting what Mac thought was a losing battle, Mac stealing and working for money instead of the good of the people rubbing Preston the wrong way. 

“I’d like that,” Dick added quietly. For now, every little step was enough; he had them, and that was what mattered. They had work to do, lots of it, but he was endlessly in love, and he’d never expected to feel that way again.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thawing out.

The sun is beaming, not a single cloud in the sky. Dick rubs his thumb and forefinger over a hubflower, their gentle scent wafting in the air. Nora loved days like these, would always drag him out to the park. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his khakis, staring down at the white wooden cross that marked her resting place.

“Hey, Nora.” He can already feel the lump in his throat, trying to form. He shouldn’t have buried her.  _ He  _ should have died in-

No. That’s not what this was about.

“I hope you’re doing okay up there. How is your new life?” He pauses, waits for a response that won’t come. “I hope you have a lot of friends. I’m sure you do. Everyone loves you. Are you doing okay? I don’t want to ask if you’re eating enough, because, well…” It felt silly. Of course she didn’t need to eat. Hell, he didn’t know if he believed she was listening. That was the cold hard truth of death; no one knew for sure. Still, he kept talking. 

“What do you think of the Commonwealth? A little different, right?” He scuffs his shoe into the grassless dirt. “I know you’re watching me, if you can, anyway. I hope you can understand all the things I’ve done, why I’ve done them. The reasoning behind… well, anyway.” He’s trailing off, though he just likes talking to her. Missed their conversations. She was so fucking smart, always wit for wit with him. It was cleansing, healing even, to talk without response. Maybe he’d do this more often. 

“Nora… I’m sorry. I know you don’t want me to be. But I’m sorry we had a child. And, I don’t want you to feel guilty about him. I didn’t want him, but maybe in a cosmic sense, I knew? ...I know it’s not possible. I’m just sorry I doomed him. To his kidnapping, being raised by the Institute, how he inevitably fell prey to their poison.” He can hear her chastising him, telling him it’s okay, he couldn’t have known, and that she was thankful for the opportunity to have a family with him, that even if she’d died protecting him, in the end, she died happy with a loving husband and beautiful son. Then again, it may just be his subconscious, telling him what he wants to hear. 

He fusses with his fingers, for a while. “Nora… How do you feel about them? I mean, I know you’d approve of Preston, you know, he’s got that good guy, soldier, sweet charm you always said you loved. But what about MacCready? He’s like me, you know. Lost his wife, fought for his son. Have you met Lucy, up there? I hope you guys are friends. MacCready… He’s…” He pauses, toying with his wedding ring, meaningless in the wasteland. Rings were obsolete in a world where that custom had no hold, lost when jewelry became scarce and unnecessary. 

“I didn’t think I could ever love again. Not after what happened to you. I’m not even sure I still can, you know? But… I’d like to be able to try, Nora. I’d want you to. We’ve gone through so much together. The world isn’t the same anymore. Love isn’t a wife and a kid and a robot and a house. It’s… someone who will watch your back, and kill for you, not  _ die  _ for you but  _ kill  _ for you, shares their food and bullets and…Nora, it’s not the same anymore. I shouldn’t treat it like it is, right? He deserves that chance, don’t you think?” 

It’s silent. The generators are the only thing he can hear, humming softly in the distance. The air is still; he can  _ feel  _ her thinking. He becomes aware of a disturbance, and turns over his shoulder to see MacCready approaching. A gentle breeze blows from his direction, ruffling Dick’s hair. He turned his face back to the grave, eyes slipping closed. “I think you’ll like him, too.”

“Hey, cowboy. You okay?” MacCready asks, drawing up to his side. Dick twists his body towards him, tugging him closer and resting his chin on his head.

“Yeah,” he breathes, planting a kiss on top of his head. He doesn't have to say anything more; as it has been, perhaps as it always has been, they can speak without words. He thinks, finally, after all that’s happened, he just may be okay.

 

Slowly, slowly but surely, he feels himself thawing out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the "end" of sorts - i intend to add more scenes, perhaps some NSFW in a separate work if people are interested.

**Author's Note:**

> ending was giving me sooooo much trouble i literally just ended it when i was stuck on a transition sentence for three and a half weeks. more to come, so watch for it. (NSFW will be in a separate work.) ill probably add more ss/preston scenes in, as i know it was a little rushed/overlooked but i wanted to study it a little separately. initially this was a mac/ss only fic, however i ended up making his canon poly ss/mac/preston and wanted to keep it that way. 
> 
> thank you for reading!! i hope you enjoyed it and PLEASE comment or kudos!! xx


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